


Stand by You

by HardNoctLife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Breaking Up & Making Up, Brief Promptio, Bullying, Canon Universe, Dating, Denial of Feelings, Drunken Kissing, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings Realization, Final Fantasy Cameos - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, No Underage Sex, Poor Prompto Argentum, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Some Whump, Suicidal Thoughts, Teenagers, Teenagers fooling around (but no explicit sex), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 89,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: Prompto Argentum knows he's an outsider. He is just trying to make it through high school while staying under the radar. Thrown into the Insomnian Academy for the Elite at a young age due to his father's suspicious relationship with the school's headmaster, the now freshman plans to keep his head down until he is able to graduate and move far, far away.But when Noctis Lucis Caelum, the Prince of Insomnia, transfers into his class, those plans are thrown out the window.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 217
Kudos: 248





	1. A Royal Pain

**Author's Note:**

> This is a major revamping of one of the first fics I ever wrote, "The Insomnian Academy for the Elite."
> 
> Although similar, there will be major changes in the plot, especially after chapter 7. 
> 
> Relevant content warnings pertaining to chapters will be included in the beginning notes. There is no explicit sexual content, although there is the typical “teenagers fooling around and experimenting.”

Prompto would always remember the first day he saw him.

He stopped in the middle of the classroom doorway, shoulders squared as if to carry the world, eyes the color of storm clouds. Prompto had noticed that his shirt was untucked in the front, most likely deliberate from the way his gaze cut across the room daring anyone to comment. No one would be bold enough to mention it to the crown Prince of Lucis, and he knew it. Pulling his tie to loosen it with one hand, he slung his briefcase over his shoulder with the other, and Prompto swallowed the breath he had been holding.

The prince never looked at him—and why should he? Of all the people in the classroom, Prompto was the lowest of the low—a commoner—and his classmates would never let him forget it.

Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum entered with the confidence of royalty and was heading straight for the back of the class when the teacher spoke up.

“Mr. Caelum, there is a seat up here for you.”

He paused, looking at her as if he was surprised she had spoken at all. To him she might as well have been the same as the desk she sat behind: lifeless and unassuming.

Much to Prompto’s horror, he realized she was indicating the seat beside him, which had remained mysteriously open for the span of the semester. Prompto could almost feel the glares of his peers digging into the back of his head.

There were murmurs as the prince finally obeyed and plopped into the chair, thumping the briefcase on the desk in obvious disapproval. Prompto dared to look over and was struck by how perfect his facial features were, from his clear skin to the midnight hues of his unkempt hair. In spite of his intentional “I don’t care” appearance, he was quite striking, and Prompto was certain he had already doubled the animosity of his female classmates for being in his immediate orbit.

Prompto sank lower in his chair, wishing he could disappear.

For the rest of the class period, he listened to Miss Gainsborough lecture about magic and the different elemental properties found in the world, but only half-heartedly. He couldn’t keep from watching the new student in his peripheral vision.

He never opened his briefcase, instead choosing to sit with his arms folded over his chest as he leaned back in his chair, clearly wanting everyone to know that he was unhappy to be there.

Prompto had to give their teacher credit—she never once looked at the prince or paused to acknowledge his hostile behavior.

It wasn’t until the bell rang and students got to their feet that Miss Gainsborough turned her attention to Prince Noctis.

“Mr. Caelum, could I speak to you for a minute?”

Curious, Prompto took longer than usual to gather his notes and writing utensils, eavesdropping as Noctis reluctantly approached her desk.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you weren’t able to take notes today. We will be having a test next week, so I hope these will be of use to you,” she explained before pulling a packet from her desk drawer and handing it to him.

He didn’t move immediately to take it, but she smiled disarmingly, emerald eyes bright in the fluorescent lighting of the classroom. Seeing that she wasn’t going to budge, he eventually grabbed the papers and shoved them into the outside pocket of his briefcase, scowling.

“Thanks,” he muttered with a dead pan expression.

When he turned to leave, his eyes swept across the room, and by happenstance, met Prompto’s.

Ashamed at getting caught, he quickly averted his gaze downward, focusing on the pencil case in front of him like it was the most interesting thing he’d seen all day.

As Noctis stepped towards the door he stopped directly in front of Prompto.

Prompto muttered an “I’m sorry,” eyes jerking up to the prince’s face to study the severe pull of his brows and twisting of his delicate mouth.

The prince’s eyes spoke for him— _out of my way_.

Prompto ducked aside in embarrassment, heat rushing into his face.

Miss Gainsborough was polite enough not to comment until Noctis had left, speaking when Prompto moved towards the door.

“Mr. Argentum?”

Pausing, Prompto turned back to her reluctantly.

“If you are ever in need of assistance, you know where to find me.”

She smiled the same smile she had for Noctis, but Prompto didn’t return it.

She had always his favorite teacher for her quiet concern, and he knew that if he ever complained to her about the bullying that she would stick up for him in a heartbeat, but unfortunately, she didn’t seem to understand how things worked at the academy. The last thing Prompto needed was an adult defending him. If anything, that would only make the situation worse.

Prompto forced a laugh, hiding his worries behind it.

“Thanks, Miss G, but I’ve got things handled.”

She gave him a look that suggested she didn’t entirely believe him, but Prompto was out the door and on the way to his next class before she could press him any harder.

He was a few minute behind schedule, which made Prompto rush—and oftentimes when people rush, they make mistakes.

Prompto’s mistake was not noticing who was heading towards him as he hurried through the hallway, but by the time they got close enough, it was too late.

He gritted his teeth and hoped for the best, trying to appear as small and unintimidating as possible, but as soon as Ravus Nox Fleuret saw him, the Prince of Tenebrae smirked, changing trajectory so they would have no choice but to meet. The upper classman stopped in front of him, and to avoid colliding, Prompto was forced to do the same.

“Running late, are we, Argentum?”

Ravus had that way of speaking that made Prompto feel like a bug about to be squashed. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had done to earn the his ire, but it seemed to grow stronger with every passing year at the academy. Usually, Prompto was good at avoiding any run-ins with him, but he’d gotten sloppy.

Better just to take a beating and get it over with.

Never far behind, the two boys standing to either side of Ravus stepped forward with a chuckle, eyeing Prompto like coeurls might eye prey.

“Just heading to class,” Prompto muttered, not meeting Ravus’s gaze.

What would it be today? Getting shoved into a locker? Dumped into a trash can? Head dunked into a toilet?

 _Please let it be quick,_ he silently prayed.

Just as he was preparing for the inevitable torture that he had come to expect, Prompto felt a muscled arm fling over his shoulder from behind. He jumped with a yelp of surprise, looking up to find a familiar face grinning down at him—it was a senior student, Gladio Amicitia.

Prompto couldn’t wrap his head around Gladio. He was the son of Clarus Amicitia, the Shield to King Regis, and like any military leader’s son, Gladio spent a lot of time training, which meant he had a reputation as a stereotypical jock. When Prompto had first met Gladio, he thought for sure that he’d be another bully to be avoided—stupid, testosterone filled, and with no regard for him—but he was wrong.

Gladio, although rough around the edges, had always been kind to him, which was why Prompto now resisted the urge to bring his hands up to push his arm away, despite feeling like he was trapped between a rock and a hard place.

“Prompto, I’m late too, maybe we should walk together,” he offered casually.

He added an extra squeeze for emphasis, and Prompto fought the panic that surfaced as his biceps choked him. Thankfully, he let go fairly quickly, the first bell ringing.

“See you around, Ravus,” Gladio said, and without waiting, steered Prompto around the three boys and down the hall. Prompto glanced back before rounding the corner, Ravus’s eyes burning holes into his back as Gladio let him away.

 _I’ll pay for that later_.

Prompto sighed, and Gladio dropped his arm as they stepped out of the prince’s line of sight.

“See you in Tactics and Arms,” Gladio said, already turning to head in a different direction.

“Y-yeah—” Belatedly, Gladio already down the hall, he added, “…thanks.”

Prompto stood there, watching the upperclassman’s broad shoulders as he walked away, not sure why he would have bothered to help him.

No one else did.

He didn’t have time to think on it too long, though, because the second bell rang, forcing him to sprint to his next class. Prompto slipped in the door just before it was about to close, panting.

The advisor, Mrs. Leonhart, chuckled when she saw him, shutting the door.

“Just in the nick of time, I see.” She seemed more amused than irritated as she took a seat at her desk.

Prompto’s smile was genuine this time, relieved.

“Yeah, I got a little held up. Sorry.”

She shook her head and shooed him off with a wave of her hand, going back to the stack of papers in front of her. Other than Miss Gainsborough, she was his favorite person at the academy. Most people’s advisors tended to be very strict and demand a lot of them, but since Prompto was one of the few people who chose the Technical Arts track as his academic focus, she could afford to be relaxed.

Prompto was the only one in her second period, which meant he was free to study and work on whatever suited him while also being tucked away from prying eyes. She was young and had only accepted a job at the academy to be close to her husband (at least that’s what people said). How she had managed to convince the headmaster of an _elite_ academy to invest in photography and music was a mystery to him. Most of the students at the school were royalty or came from military families, which meant they had little use for the arts, but Prompto wasn’t about to complain. Her class was one of the few places he could escape from his peers, and some days it was the only thing he had to look forward to.

“How’s that project coming along?” Mrs. Leonhart wondered as Prompto headed to his work station.

It was a cubicle in the back left corner of the room, and he had to walk past several others on the way. He peeked inside them as he went, spying an impressive pottery collection of mini statues, perfect replicas of the gods of Eos, along with other creatures he didn’t recognize. In another, there were mini portraits pinned carefully on cork board of some of the world’s most powerful political figures, the paintings so life-like that they could have been photographs.

“It’s coming,” Prompto answered evasively, stealing another look at yet another station, this time the one next to his.

The student had transformed it into a recording studio, complete with magically sound-proofed walls and a professional grade mixer.

Prompto plopped down in his swivel chair as Mrs. Leonhart commented, “Is that so?”

Pulling one knee into his chest, he powered on his laptop and waited for the photo program to load. As the computer came to life, chirping and whirring in protest, Prompto surveyed the rest of his 5-by-5 work space.

He had been doing a black and white collection using traditional film and developing the shots in the academy’s dark room. The photographs that had come out well were hanging on the wall, various snapshots of campus life.

A fountain, a pillar, the academy’s inner garden—a rare group of candids he had snapped of students at lunch or talking with their friends.

This week he had decided to use a digital camera and edit them into black and white for comparison. Although the academy didn’t focus heavily on the arts, there was a competition held every year that could earn students scholarship money for submitting personal work, and Mrs. Leonhart had somehow convinced Prompto to enter.

It made him nervous to think his photographs would be on display for the whole school to see, but it also made him work harder than ever before. He never would have thought that he would enjoy it as much as he did.

As Prompto adjusted the lighting on a photo with his editing software, he allowed his mind to wander.

He couldn’t blame the other students for not wanting to associate with him. It was the Insomnian Academy for the _Elite_ , after all, and while his father was an infamous figure in Insomnian social circles, he wasn’t well liked.

Verstael Besithia was known for his position as the former Imperial Research Minister for the Niflheim Empire, Insomnia’s sworn enemy. When Prompto was a child they had moved to the city as refugees, fleeing the civil war that had found his father out of favor with Niflheim’s emperor. Verstael had founded his own private research company to continue his work, but ultimately relied on funding from wealthy donors to do so.

He had never asked him outright, but he had heard enough rumors to suspect that his father didn’t always secure donations in the most honorable of ways, which had earned him the animosity of Insomnia’s upper class.

Verstael had somehow managed to enroll Prompto in the Insomnian Academy for the Elite while he was still in his grade school years—not that he had asked for it. He would have been happy going to the local public school, but the academy was Eos’s most prestigious boarding school, which, in his father’s eyes, meant that it was the best.

Prompto had never asked his father how he had managed to enroll him, the yearly tuition alone being more expensive than any college, but the school’s headmaster also happened to be one of his father’s top donors, so he imagined it had something to do with that.

Regardless of how he had ended up at the academy, his father never wasted an opportunity to tell Prompto how ‘fortunate’ he was to be enrolled there, which was why he could never tell him the truth.

He absolutely hated it.

Over the years, he had figured out how to survive by learning as much as he could about his peers. He knew who to avoid completely (i.e. Ravus and his cohort), the ones to kiss up to, and those who would rather ignore him than waste energy on bullying him.

By keeping his head down, Prompto had been fairly successful. Probably because it was easier to stay on top of his studies without any friends to distract him. He kept telling himself that he only had to make it three more years until graduation, and then he could leave Insomnia behind, maybe go to college in Altissia, or move someplace exotic like Galahd. He had no desire to work for his father, holding strongly to the belief that if he could survive at the academy, he could survive anywhere.

It was that singular belief that gave him hope for a future.

Prompto’s musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the concrete floor of the workroom.

Her cubicle was the one next to him, the makeshift recording studio, so he returned to his work, figuring she would go straight to it, leaving him in peace.

It wasn’t until he heard someone gently clear their throat behind him that he paused, turning. His classmate Yuna was standing behind him, offering a small smile in greeting.

“Prompto, right?”

Prompto glanced over his shoulder, as if there might be another person with the same name standing in the room.

“Um, yeah, that’s me.”

When she laughed, she brought one delicate hand to cover her mouth.

“The headmaster sent me to get you. He wants to see you in his office,” she explained.

Prompto’s stomach dropped, and he quickly cataloged everything he had done in the last week for anything he might have done to piss someone off. Yes, he had sat at the wrong table during lunch two days ago, but that’s only because someone had dumped food in his usual spot and there weren’t any other seats available. Or it could have been when he gave the correct answer in World History and made Ravus look like he didn’t know what he was talking about. Even just the run-in during class change with the surly senior might have been enough for him to make up some sort of lie about Prompto get him in trouble.

Licking his lips nervously, Prompto moved to get up, nearly falling back as the chair rolled out from under him in his haste. Yuna kindly refrained from laughing this time.

After muttering a half-hearted ‘thanks,’ he made a wave to Mrs. Leonhart before squeezing past Luna and heading out of the workshop.

The headmaster’s office was on the third floor of the academy and overlooked the central courtyard.

On the ground floor of the school was where the majority of the rooms used for classes were housed, while the second story consisted entirely of dormitories. Other offices, storage, and the infirmary were all located on the third floor, but there was only one set of stairs that would take you to the headmaster’s live-in suite.

Prompto took this set of stairs, inspecting the ostentatious golden railing as it spiraled steadily upward, a mural depicting the story of Eos’s creation stretching across the wall from the bottom landing all the way to the top. His gazed naturally scanned the paintings of gods and ancient beasts surrounded in celestial light, avoiding their glowing eyes as they pierced through him.

Passing the mural always made him anxious, so he took the steps two at a time and rushed around the corner to the solid wood doors that awaited him.

He ran a hand over one of the iron Ifrit-head knockers before lifting its ring with a trembling hand. He let it fall, and it let out a resounding boom, reminding him of a gavel in a courtroom.

A murmur beckoned to him from within.

“Come in.”

Even knowing he hadn’t done anything wrong, Prompto _felt_ guilty, and his palms began to sweat as he pushed the doors open.

Surveying Headmaster Ardyn Izunia’s study, he didn’t immediately notice the man behind a sturdy-looking desk in the center of the room. A plush rug of black, gold, and crimson led from the entryway to where the man sat in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the central courtyard. The desk itself had been fashioned from the same wood as the doors, as well as the bookcases that lined the other three walls. Each bookcase was brimming with works of varying ages and were tall enough that they required their own ladders, which were affixed on a track so that they could slide with ease in either direction. Today, the thick curtains framing the large windows had been pulled back, allowing natural light to flood the office.

“Mr. Argentum,” the headmaster said warmly, waving Prompto in.

The Headmaster’s wavy red hair was tied back into a braid today, and he adjusted his tie gently as he stood. His smile reminded Prompto of an actor about to take the stage: convincing, if not ingenuine.

Headmaster Izunia was often described as being an eccentric individual. There were talks of him possibly being related to royalty, but no two students gave the same story when asked about who he was or where he came from. Prompto didn’t have a reason for it, but simply being in Headmaster Izunia’s presence put him on edge, so he did his best to stay out of his way. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like he would have that luxury today.

“Please, have a seat,” he urged. Prompto gave a tiny nod, eyes flitting up briefly.

With another wave, he had Prompto sit in one of two leather chairs positioned before him, and he took slow, measured steps before perching on the edge of one, uncomfortable.

“Sir, I apologize if I’ve caused any trouble—” Prompto blurted, but Headmaster Izunia quickly interrupted.

“Nonsense, nonsense!” His amber eyes twinkled as he continued to smile. A chill crawled down Prompto’s spine as he came around to the front of the desk, leaning back against it. The student preferred to study the hints of golden embroidery in the black vest he wore over his white button-down shirt in order to avoid his predatory gaze.

“You’re not in any trouble,” the headmaster assured him, tone soothing. The tension in Prompto’s shoulders remained, even as he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “In fact, I’ve called you here to ask a special favor,” he admitted, clasping his hands over one knee.

Prompto’s head jerked up in alarm. A favor, of _him_? What could he possibly have to offer the headmaster of the Insomnian Academy?

When Prompto didn’t respond, he went on. “As you might know, our beloved prince, Noctis Lucis Caelum, enrolled at the academy today.”

 _Oh no._ _This can’t be good_ , Prompto thought. He clasped his hands in front of them to keep himself from fidgeting.

Headmaster Izunia carefully picked out a stack of papers from the corner of his desk and slid them into a manila folder. “As he will be rooming with you, I thought it would be fitting for you to give him a tour of our fine establishment. Can you manage that?”

Prompto stared down at the folder the headmaster was now holding out to him like it might come alive at any moment and bite him. Surely, Headmaster Izunia knew of his reputation. He was the last person who should be chosen as Prince Noctis’s roommate.

Any time a new student transferred in, they always requested a specific room or roommate to avoid being placed with him, which suited him just fine. He did better alone anyway. Prompto’s stomach churned at the thought of being thrown together in a room with the prince—and how Prince Noctis would react when he found out.

“I have informed your instructors that you are to be excused from all classes tomorrow so you can escort Prince Noctis about the premises.”

He paused then, studying Prompto’s face, which must have looked paler than usual due to the blood that had drained from it. He quickly forced a smile, but Ardyn Izunia wasn’t the headmaster of the academy for nothing, and he immediately picked up on the student’s distress.

“Prompto,” he said. “I have the utmost confidence in your ability to make our prince feel welcome. You need only tell me that you are opposed to the task and I will select another, equally capable student for the honor. I merely felt this would be an excellent opportunity for you to establish a possibly fortuitous connection, one your father may even benefit from.”

 _Ah_.

It made sense then—this was Verstael’s doing. Of _course_ , he would want his son to get close to the prince, and by extension, King Regis, most likely to benefit his research, but if the interaction between Prompto and the prince this morning was any indication, he didn’t think it was likely they would become friends. Even so, he felt himself nodding submissively, unable to say no. Prompto wondered what his dad had done for this special favor, but quickly pushed the thought away.

_Ignorance is bliss._

“That’s the spirit!” Ardyn lauded, his hand patting Prompto firmly on the back. Prompto found that he suddenly couldn’t look anywhere but out the window, his mind whirring with the understanding that his father probably expected him to become the prince’s servant in order to benefit Verstael’s business.

“You will find everything you need to know about His Highness in the dossier I have provided. However, if you need any further assistance, you are always welcome to call on me.” He pushed himself upright, and Prompto did the same, trying not to betray that he was itching to run out of the room.

“Thank you— _sir_.”

Taking the folder from Headmaster Izunia’s hand, Prompto hugged it against his chest as he headed for the doors, cursing his bad luck. Before he stepped into the hallway, the headmaster started speaking again.

“Oh, and Mr. Argentum?”

Turning, he eyed the headmaster warily.

“Do remember that your success at this academy is dependent on your performance in all aspects, not only in the classroom. We wouldn’t want to ruin your chances of becoming a contributing member of society following graduation, now would we?”

It worried Prompto that the headmaster felt the need to threaten him. He understood perfectly well what his status was at the academy, just as he understood what his father expected of him. Serving Prince Noctis was just another item to add to a growing list of things he would need to do to survive.

“I won’t let you down, Headmaster Izunia,” Prompto vowed. He kept his voice steady and shoulders squared. The headmaster arched an eyebrow in obvious amusement.

“Oh, I have no doubt, Mr. Argentum. Now, run along, I believe you have a class to attend.”

The first bell rang shortly after Prompto stepped out, the double doors swinging shut behind him with a heavy sense of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major edits that you can see in the first chapter compared to the original:  
> \- This story is in third person instead of first person POV  
> \- Noctis, Gladio, and Ardyn's characterization have been adjusted to better fit their canon personalities


	2. Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being pressured into becoming Noctis's roommate as a favor to Headmaster Izunia and his father, Prompto quickly comes to the realization that he might be getting in over his head when it comes to the prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I performed some minor edits to the previous chapter, mostly to fix some characterization regarding Noctis in the first scene and Prompto's interactions with Ardyn in his office.

Prompto raced down three flights of stairs and through the academy halls, earning a few strange looks, but he achieved his goal—slipping into the gymnasium as the second bell rang.

He wiped the sheen of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as a few of his classmates started going through their warm-up exercises, some in groups of two, others on their own.

Prompto bypassed everyone and went straight to the locker room. He threw his stuff into an empty cubby, slipping the manila folder Headmaster Izunia gave him securely in his briefcase before quickly changing into his gym uniform, which consisted of a loose white cotton shirt with the academy insignia on the front and black sweatpants.

Pulling the drawstrings tight on his sweats, he walked back into the gym.

Through the skylights in the vaulted ceiling Prompto could see that it a was cloudy day outside, and the weather combined with the deep purple and black accents of the gray gym walls matched the gloom he felt after his meeting with the headmaster. The school crest was affixed at half court, and it looked similar to the Lucian royal crest, a stark reminder of the ‘favor’ he unwillingly agreed to.

 _Why me?_ he wondered.

Prompto hadn’t had any time to mentally prepare himself for class when everyone abruptly stopped what they were doing and began to line up in front of the mats that had been set out.

He turned his head to see exactly what he had expected; their instructor, Sephiroth Crescent, had arrived. Without wasting another second, the student jumped to the end of the line and stood at attention, focusing his gaze straight across the room.

Mr. Crescent’s voice cut through the air sharper than the katana hanging from his hip. The sword was too long to hang comfortably without dragging on the ground, so he always rested his hand on the hilt. His bright green eyes cut through the line of pupils before him like a scythe through grain, causing everyone to straighten up as he did so.

“Gladiolus Amicitia?” he asked, glancing at the roster he held in one hand.

“Here,” Gladio answered from where he stood at the front of the line.

The teacher nodded, moving down the list.

“Tidus Morita.”

“Here.”

“Prompto Argentum.”

“Here.”

“Noctis Lucis Caelum.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Several people dared to crane their necks to look around, Prompto included.

_Sweet Six, why was he late? Better for him not to show up rather than—_

“Noctis Lucis Caelum?” Mr. Crescent repeated, venom dripping from every syllable.

“Here.”

Heads turned to watch as the prince casually strolled into the gymnasium, still in his uniform, briefcase slung over one shoulder.

_Not a care in the world._

Eyes darted nervously back to Mr. Crescent as he slowly turned to size up the student. The instructor towered over the prince, and although the former soldier currently wore a loose white shirt and black sparring pants that tapered at the ankles, he gave off a strong and intimidating aura that was hard for anyone to ignore. Still, Noctis blinked up at him apathetically, offering no explanation or apology for his tardiness.

“Your Highness, I’m glad you decided to join us.” Mr. Crescent’s smile wasn’t meant to be friendly.

Prompto shuddered. It felt like the temperature in the gym had dropped at least ten degrees, yet the Prince of Lucis wore the same bored expression.

 _Is he trying to piss everyone off on his first day? If so, he’s succeeding._ Prompto chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the exchange between the student and teacher unfold in front of him.

“While I imagine you are used to people waiting on you, you’re at the academy now, not the Citadel. If you’re late again, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Sure,” was all the prince said, and with a nonchalant tilt of his head, excused himself to go into the locker room to change.

By the time Mr. Crescent returned his attention to the class, everyone was facing forward again, acting like nothing had happened.

“Pair up,” he ordered, expression carefully neutral.

Students nearly tripped over each other as they scrambled to obey, and Prompto hurried to the back corner of the mat and waited, knowing he would most likely not be chosen by anyone to be their partner.

Then he spied Gladio heading straight towards him like a man on a mission. Frowning, he looked left, then right.

_Is he coming for me? What did I do now?_

With no place to run, Prompto could only brace himself for the worst and hope for the best.

“You and me?” Gladio grinned wide, sparking a surge of anxiety in Prompto’s body.

“Uh…” Prompto looked up with a pained smile, taking in everything that was Gladio—which was a _lot_. “Dude, you’re, um—”

‘Too big for me to handle’ might hold connotations that Prompto didn’t want to speak into existence.

“Mr. Amicitia, you will have to pick on someone your own size, I’m afraid. We’re grappling today.” Mr. Crescent said, his long silver hair swinging by his hips as he approached the two. Prompto was relieved to be spared the trouble (and embarrassment) of declining Gladio’s invitation.

“Mr. Argentum, you will have the honor of entertaining our prince.”

Prompto couldn’t control his face as the instructor motioned to where Noctis was exiting the locker room, now in the same uniform as everyone else.

Gladio only shrugged, moving away to join a pair of older boys, and Prompto suddenly felt like a safety net had been pulled out from under him. He was helpless to protest as Mr. Crescent motioned for Noctis to join him, the instructor turning to the entire class.

“We will be working on our grappling skills this week. As it has been some time since we last reviewed, we will spend today going over the basics. Start with one person guarding and the other person practicing a pass, sweep, and escape of their choice. I will be coming around to observe and give feedback.”

There was an echo of acknowledgment from the students, but Prompto was too concerned with Prince Noctis, who was looking past Prompto like he wasn’t even there, to answer.

“I, um, don’t mind going first if you’d like—Your Highness,” Prompto offered.

Noctis stared at Prompto like he had grown a second head.

“I’m not doing this,” he said matter-of-factly.

Prompto blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck.

_Great, how do I convince him?_

“O-kay, listen your princeliness, I get it—no one likes gym class, me especially—but Mr. Crescent is really not the one you want to make angry.”

Noctis’s lip curled up at the edge deviously, and Prompto’s heart jumped against his ribcage.

_Stay cool, Prompto._

“Listen dude, I’m not really worried about making people angry. The sooner I get out of here, the better. If they get angry, then…” The prince made a vague gesture, like he was throwing something up in the air.

 _Great, my new roommate is apparently on a suicide mission and I’m along for the rid_ e.

Knowing that Prince Noctis had nothing to lose made it difficult for Prompto to come up with a way to persuade him to cooperate. Unlike the prince, he couldn’t afford to get in trouble or draw attention to himself, but Noctis didn’t have any reason to care about that.

The instructor was staring intently at the two boys from across the room, and Prompto started to panic when Mr. Crescent’s eyes narrowed before taking deliberate steps in their direction.

_Looks like I would have to resort to plan B—begging._

“Sweet, that’s um, awesome, but just this once, could you maybe—I don’t know, _try_? I’ll owe you one, anything you want.”

Noctis frowned at first, skeptical, and for a moment Prompto thought he might laugh. The blond tried again as their teacher came nearly within earshot.

“I’ve been here since grade school. I know all the teachers, all the students. There are much easier ways to get kicked out of the academy if that’s what you’re into. Besides, if your dad is the one who sent you here, I doubt he’d let you off so easy—Your Highness.”

The prince’s eyebrows raised. Maybe he was just shocked by Prompto’s boldness, but for once the blond’s need outweighed his fear—which was that he _needed_ the prince to help him.

Mr. Crescent finally reached them, and his arms folded across his toned chest.

“Mr. Argentum, Prince Noctis, is there a problem here?”

Prompto looked directly into Noctis’s stormy eyes, pleading with him.

To his surprise, Noctis shook his head before putting on an easy smile.

 _Wow—so he_ does _smile_. Prompto hated to admit it, but it made the prince more attractive than ever, and Prompto found himself momentarily starstruck.

“No, he was just explaining the basics to me,” Noctis explained.

The teacher scanned Prompto scathingly, making it apparent he didn’t believe a word of it, but he graciously let it slide.

“Very well, continue.”

Once Mr. Crescent was safely on the other side of the gym, Prompto regained his voice.

“Thank you, Prince Noctis.”

Something shifted in the prince’s demeanor, any trace of a smile vanishing as he looked away.

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered, finally getting into a defensive stance. “You owe me one, remember?”

Prompto catalogued “favor for Prince Noctis” directly under the bullet point in his head that read, “favor for Headmaster Izunia.” Then again, he could probably just combine them, as they were essentially one in the same.

With his debts growing larger, Prompto turned his focus to working with the prince for the remainder of class.

Noctis never commented on Prompto’s terrible form when it came to hand-to-hand combat, although he did throw Prompto onto his back on several occasions. The prince knew the basics and then some—which shouldn’t have been surprising—he had grown up in the Citadel, which made Prompto assume he had been trained by the best since the time he could walk.

What _was_ surprising was how nonchalant the prince continued to appear the entire time. By the time class was coming to an end, Prompto was breathing hard, sweat pouring down his face, while his partner still looked as pristine as when he arrived.

Prompto was relieved when Mr. Crescent excused them, and he shuffled into the locker room with the boys, hoping to change and get out as quickly as he could, putting the incident behind him.

He was in the middle of pulling his shirt on when Prompto felt Gladio’s familiar arm around his neck for the second time that day.

“Don’t let Prince Charming fool you,” he teased. “Kid’s as soft as they come.”

Noctis ignored the comment, more concerned with putting his uniform back on than the conversation going on behind him.

“We better hurry up or we’re going to be late,” Prompto protested lamely, trying to shrug out from under Gladio. This only seemed to encourage him however, and he grabbed Prompto more tightly, his opposite hand ruffling Prompto’s blond hair so it stood up in every direction.

“Sure thing. Can’t have you missing out on another chance to make Ravus’s blood boil,” Gladio laughed, earning a few chuckles from those who were listening.

Noctis glanced over curiously. It was the first time he had seemed interested in anyone’s conversation, but Prompto had ducked his head to hide a blush and missed his apparent interest in the subject while squirming out of Gladio’s hold.

Gladio continued to joke with those around him and was deep into a conversation about an upcoming sporting event by the time Prompto managed to flee.

Prompto adjusted his tie on his way to World History, a class taught by Vincent Valentine. Mr. Valentine was a man of few words, and lectured in a monotone, but Prompto didn’t mind it. He sat in the back row where he wouldn’t be noticed, and generally avoided detection.

There were more upperclassmen in the class than his others, so Prompto had to be especially vigilant with how much he participated. Talk too much and he would seem like a teacher’s pet; talk too little and he’d get called out or picked on. Usually the senior class preside nt, Ignis Scientia, answered most of Mr. Valentine’s questions, sparing the rest of them burden, but Prompto always tried to have an answer ready—just in case.

The classroom filled slowly, and eventually Gladio wandered in and took the seat next to Prompto in the back row. Prompto wasn’t sure why he sat beside him when he could sit next to Ignis. Everyone knew that they had been friends since childhood, since both of their parents worked at the Citadel, but they seemed to avoid each other for some reason while at the academy.

It was really none of Prompto’s business, but Gladio was a large target, and a popular one, which meant hiding became much harder whenever the upperclassman was around.

After the second bell tolled and class started, Prompto did his best to listen as Mr. Valentine droned on about various cosmogonies and how multiple worlds were all theorized to be connected, and Prompto’s thoughts ultimately drifted to the promise he had foolishly made to Noctis.

It was obvious that the prince hoped to get expelled, which made Prompto’s obligation to Headmaster Izunia troublesome to say the least. Prince Noctis was arguably one of the most high profile students at the school, and his reputation had to be taken into consideration. Getting bad grades wouldn’t be enough—there was no way the teachers would fail the son of the king. But if the prince wasn’t careful with how he went about things, he’d be attracting media attention, the last thing any of them wanted.

Prompto racked his brain for solutions as Mr. Valentine flipped through slides on his presentation, head propped in his hands. He briefly allowed his gaze to wander away from the information projected on the wall and up to the front row of the class.

Ignis Scientia sat diagonally across the room and was diligently taking notes in a leather-bound notebook. The senior class president was well liked by everyone, but while he had never been unkind to Prompto, he intimidated the freshman and was one of the students he generally avoided.

An image was reflected on the lenses of Ignis’s glasses from the picture Mr. Valentine currently had displayed; Ifrit, one of the Six gods of Eos, and the steady glow of the projector lit his green eyes ablaze, entrancing Prompto like a mage’s spell. His soft lips, set in a relaxed line, pursed in annoyance as Mr. Valentine switched to the next slide before he had finished writing.

A sudden _thud_ broke Prompto out of his daydreaming. Gladio had kicked one of the legs on Prompto’s desk, startling the blond.

Gladio was currently watching Prompto, watching Ignis.

“Notes are on the board, Argentum,” he drawled with a knowing smirk. “I know Specs is pretty, but people might get the wrong idea,” the senior added in a whisper.

Prompto could feel his face grow hot. “R-right, yup, thanks.”

He managed to keep his hands busy and his eyes forward for the rest of the period.

By the time they were dismissed for lunch, Prompto’s mind was thoroughly exhausted. He wasn’t sure how he could be expected to satisfy Noctis _and_ the headmaster _and_ memorize the lore of the Six for their upcoming World History exam.

As he crammed into the line in the cafeteria, Prompto thought about it, finger curling idly around a loose strand of hair. There was no way around it—there wasn’t a good way to help Noctis without getting the prince expelled, and it would be doing exactly the opposite of what Headmaster Izunia and his father wanted of him.

Prompto’s stomach flipped as his worry continued to grow, but he wasn’t going to be able to do anything without strength, so he watched as the cooks piled food onto his tray and tried to summon up his appetite. The one plus of attending the academy was that the cafeteria served the highest quality food—'you are what you eat,’ and all that.

But, like any high school, there was still a pecking order when it came to seating arrangements. The cafeteria was set up more like a lounge, with circular tables and plush, rounded benches, booths, and an assortment of longer tables, which offered the most room, and each one had its own clique—children whose parents were in service to the king at there, military brats here, foreign royals in the middle, and so on and so forth.

Prompto’s designated spot was at a two-person booth tucked in the corner closest to the bathrooms. Occasionally, a prankster would vandalize his seat by spilling food or drink on it, but for the most part he was ignored, which is what Prompto preferred.

He made his way to the booth now, keeping his head down as he walked past the long wall of windows that looked out on the central courtyard. When Prompto reached his seat, he stopped and shifted side-to-side awkwardly, not expecting someone to already be sitting in it.

It was Prince Noctis.

“Someone told me this was your seat,” he said without prompting. An empty tray sat in front of him, making Prompto wonder how he had gotten to eat before anyone else.

 _The perks of being royalty_ , Prompto through wryly.

“Not really,” Prompto said, opting to be non-confrontational. The blond slid apprehensively into the seat across from the prince, scanning his face for any sort of reaction, but Prince Noctis’s face didn’t change from a blank stare, so Prompto took it as a sign that he was free to join him.

Tentatively, Prompto began to eat.

“So, what’s the plan?” Noctis asked abruptly. The prince took a sip from the cup in front of him, eyes never leaving Prompto’s face.

Those eyes were more intimidating than Headmaster Izunia’s, although Prompto couldn’t put his finger on why. The fluttering in his stomach intensified, and Prompto pushed his food away.

“I need more time to think about it.”

“I thought you said it would be easy,” Noctis admonished, sinking back in the booth to cross his arms over his chest.

“No, I said there are much easier ways to get kicked out of the academy, not that it would be easy,” Prompto corrected, keeping his voice low. He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one else was around before leaning over the table, arms in front of him like armor that could shield him from Noctis’s disappointment.

“Why are you so determined to get out of here?”

Prompto could sympathize, but unlike Noctis, he wasn’t royalty. It only made sense he would go to the best school available.

“It’s…complicated,” Noctis admitted. For a moment, Prompto thought he saw what looked like doubt flicker across the prince’s face.

_What could be so complicated about being a prince?_

Prompto knew it wasn’t a fair question—he’d only just met the guy—but he couldn’t help but resent him a little bit for the entitled attitude he knew all too well.

Seeing that the prince wasn’t going to be forthcoming with information, Prompto let the conversation grind to a halt.

Several minutes later, Noctis looked out the window and into the courtyard. Prompto’s reflex was to look too, and he was surprised to find someone walking through it— a pale, petite girl with white-blonde hair, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.

While she and her older brother had both transferred to the academy two years ago, she was rarely seen around campus as she spent most of her time in the infirmary as a work study student. From what Prompto knew of her, she was skilled in the art of healing and was also the youngest Oracle in Lucian history, but he had never met her in person.

He only hoped she wasn’t anything like her older brother.

Prompto turned back to Noctis to see what his reaction might be, but was surprised to find the booth empty. He twisted in his seat, searching for the prince in vain.

There was no sign of him.

With a loud exhale, Prompto poked at his food, resuming his meal in peace.

Every student, with few exceptions (such as Lunafreya), shared a similar schedule: breakfast, four class periods, then lunch, followed by longer individualized study sessions, school clubs, or internships in the afternoon. Dinner was served between six and nine in the evening.

Since he had elected an arts track, Prompto spent a good amount of time in the dark room or editing photographs in his cubicle, but on alternating weekdays, he attended music lessons.

After finishing most of what was on his tray, Prompto walked to the music room for his guitar lesson with Edward Muir.

Mr. Muir was a quiet man with shoulder-length golden hair that he often tied back and was known as an amazing musician, but Prompto mostly liked, him because he was kind and never pressured him to talk, but always listened when he did.

Prompto had started playing the guitar around the time he moved to Insomnia, a hobby that his father made known (loudly and insistently) was a waste of time, but it was one of the few activities other than photography that brought him true joy. He didn’t think he was very good, but Mr. Muir continued to encourage him, so he stuck with it, much to Verstael’s chagrin.

The lessons always went by too quickly in Prompto’s opinion, and it felt like he had just sat down with his teacher when the two-hour session came to an end. Mr. Muir commented on how he could see Prompto had been practicing, and to “keep up the good work.”

The simple praise had Prompto smiling all the way to the library. He had a couple hours until the cafeteria opened again for dinner, and it was the time he typically used to do any homework or studying so he would be able to relax when he got back to his room for the night.

Prompto had established the library as a safe space in the academy, mainly due to the fact that the librarian, Ms. Trepe, was a stickler for following protocol. She kept things organized, but most importantly, _quiet_ , which left little opportunity for students to corner Prompto there and harass him.

As he entered through the open doors, the librarian looked up over the rims of her glasses and smiled. Prompto gave her a nod before walking past the round circulation desk to a reading nook nestled in the wall, framed by two sturdy bookshelves. A stained-glass window depicting “The Mystic,” a former Lucian king, was inlaid above the cushioned bench, and the light streaming through it cast a rainbow of color on the carpeted floor. There was enough room for Prompto to lay down, so he settled onto his back, crossing one leg over the other as he pulled his _Basics of Magic_ textbook from his briefcase.

Time passed, and Prompto became so engrossed in trying to understand how items could serve as conduits to amplify magic when he noticed that someone was next to him. He wasn’t sure how long the student had been standing there, as it wasn’t until he set his book aside to jot down a note that he caught sight of his leather shoes, shimmering with tints of blue and green from the stained glass above.

Prompto allowed his eyes to pan up a pair of long legs to the perfectly placed tie around Ignis Scientia’s neck. The senior class president had waited patiently for Prompto to notice him instead of interrupting his reading, and Prompto was immediately mortified to think he might have been standing there for several minutes while he had remained completely oblivious, pen hanging out of his mouth.

After a few uncomfortable moments of Prompto staring at Ignis that the upperclassman cleared his throat. Prompto sat up, giving Ignis his full attention.

“H-hi, Mr. President—sir—um, what’s up?” He tried not to cringe as his voice cracked.

“You have a visitor in the front office. I am here to escort you,” Ignis explained.

It dawned on Prompto that one of Ignis’s (many) internships consisted of helping manage the front office, although he wasn’t sure why he had been sent to deliver the message.

_He’s got to have a million more important things to do._

“They do not allow phone calls to the library during study hours,” he added, as if reading Prompto’s mind. “It was easiest to relay the message myself.”

“O-oh, thank you,” Prompto mumbled, quickly moving to collect his things. In his rush, he clumsily knocked his briefcase onto the floor, sending pencils and papers spilling over the carpet.

_Great, just great._

Prompto wanted to scream, but instead he dropped quickly onto hands and knees, grabbing first for the manila folder that held Noctis’s dossier, but Ignis was faster, and Prompto found his hand brushing the top of Ignis’s knuckles as the student scooped it up.

Blood rushed from the base of Prompto’s neck all the way to the crown of his head, but Ignis appeared unfazed, eyes falling onto one of the pages that had fallen out of the folder.

“A little light reading?” he questioned. It was phrased innocently, but Prompto couldn’t mistake the suspicion in Ignis’s eyes.

_This just keeps getting better._

“It’s—I’m not—” Prompto scrambled for an explanation, but there wasn’t one. He had been caught red-handed.

Ignis swept the matter aside before Prompto could embarrass himself further. “Preparing for next week’s exam, I take it?” He picked up the textbook as Prompto gathered the rest of his things.

“Trying,” Prompto chuckled, hoping that Ignis would forget any of this happened—not likely.

Ignis turned to lead the way out of the library, forcing Prompto to follow. He still held onto Prompto’s _Basics of Magic_ , and Prompto was too distressed to ask for it back.

“How are you liking it?” Ignis questioned as they walked down the hall, Ignis just one step ahead.

“Oh—I haven’t read it. Headmaster Izunia only gave it to me because Prince Noctis is going to be my roommate,” he replied, jogging to match Ignis’s long strides.

Ignis glanced at Prompto out of his peripheral vision and smiled.

“Actually, I was referring to the class,” he explained. His accent made it difficult for Prompto to know if he was teasing him or not, but he always assumed people were laughing at him, just to be safe.

He really wished he could put himself on mute to avoid situations like these.

“Oh—right!” Prompto laughed loudly, maybe too loudly, and then added quickly, “It’s all right I guess, not my best subject. Not that I really have a _good_ subject, unless you count music and photography, which my father certainly doesn’t—”

“Indeed,” Ignis interjected, stopping Prompto’s tidal wave of words in its tracks. He faced forward again as they rounded the corner to the hall where the main office could be found, and Prompto took it as a cue to clamp his mouth shut.

When they finally reached the door, Ignis paused, reaching into his inner jacket pocket to pull out a small business card with delicate print across its front, handing it to Prompto.

“If you find you are in need of assistance, I offer private tutoring sessions.”

Prompto blinked, first at the card, which contained Ignis’s name was his contact number and e-mail address, then back up at Ignis, and down again.

_Why would he offer to help me?_

Ignis was too smart not realize the implications of associating with Prompto, which left him wondering what he could possibly have to offer that Ignis would find desirable.

Obviously, it wasn’t his way with words.

Belatedly, Prompto realized Ignis was holding the door open for him, so he shoved the card into his pocket and stepped inside quickly, muttering a ‘thank you.’

The main office was not nearly as lavish as Headmaster Izunia’s, but it had a lot of the same design elements, including a thick carpet with undulating designs in gold, black, and purple, and a set of the same large windows on the back wall. A semi-circular reception desk took up the majority of it, and to either side of the desk’s high counter were doors that led to private offices for the administration. Prompto avoided the judgmental stares from the Lucian kings framed in ornate golden frames that adorned the walls, but in doing so, realized a man was sitting just inside the door.

“What are you doing here?” Prompto asked before he could stop himself.

The man rose with a frown, seeming offended by the question.

“I came to take you to dinner,” he replied. Judging by his condescending tone, it was meant to be taken as a grand gesture that he should be thanked profusely for. “My car is outside.”

Verstael Besithia was wearing one of his best suits, a light gray with silver buttons and cufflinks. The loafers he paired with them had a faint naga-skin pattern, the scales the same vibrant blue as his pocket square and tie. A charcoal gray vest under his jacket made the bright color pop and drew out the blue in his eyes, eyes identical to Prompto’s. With his blond hair slicked back, the man’s facial features appeared sharper, almost hawk-like.

As much as Prompto hated to admit it, there was no denying he was his father. People often mistook him for the student’s older brother, but that was where the similarities ended.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Prompto tried to protest. It was a weak excuse, and he knew it.

The individuals sitting behind the front desk all kept their heads down, and he imagined they were trying to be subtle about eavesdropping. It wasn’t typical for Prompto’s father to come to the school unannounced.

“Now,” Verstael hissed. He left without waiting for Prompto, and the student looked nervously to where Ignis now sat at his work station sorting through stacks of paperwork.

Ignis lifted his head, meeting Prompto’s eyes questioningly.

After a moment’s hesitation, Prompto smiled. To his surprise, it was a gesture that Ignis graciously returned, and Prompto held on to the image, carrying it with him out the door as he followed his father.


	3. Great Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's father stresses to him what his focus at the academy should be, meanwhile, Prompto thinks he might actually be making some friends.
> 
> Needless to say, this complicates things.

The cloudy sky had darkened with the impending sunset, painting the clouds with fervent red and royal purple hues.

Prompto took a moment to admire it, wishing he had his camera, though the moment was ruined when his father honked the horn from where he impatiently waited inside his black, two door coupe.

Prompto slid into the passenger seat, the door already opened for him, and Verstael turned the key in the ignition, pulling out of the rounded driveway before he could even buckle his seatbelt.

A marble fountain in front of the academy’s was visible in the rearview as they pulled away. It was the same brilliant white as the academy’s outer walls, and depicted Leviathan rising out of the ocean, water flowing freely from the god’s open mouth into the large basin below. 

Leviathan grew smaller and smaller in the mirror until it disappeared entirely; they took a turn down a side street that would take them to a thoroughfare and into the city.

Verstael drove with the radio off, which only served to rapidly build Prompto’s anxiety as emptiness stretched between him and his father.

_What is there to say, really?_

It wasn’t until they reached Insomnia proper and were pulling into a parking garage downtown that Verstael broke the silence.

“Are you staying on top of your studies?”

The last time Prompto had spoken to his father was at the end of the previous semester, nearly two months ago. He knew his father wouldn’t be taking sudden interest in him if he didn’t want something, but going through pleasantries was a necessary evil to keep the peace.

Verstael didn’t force him to go home on weekends so long as Prompto did as he was told, and it was the only thing they had ever agreed upon.

“Yes sir, I’ve got all A’s and one B right now.” Prompto picked idly at a loose piece of skin along one fingernail, avoiding looking at his father.

The B was in Tactics and Arms and, honestly, Mr. Crescent was probably just taking pity on him. If Prompto received a C he would be required to remediate, which he had already done once, and he was certain the teacher didn’t want the student in the class for a third quarter. Luckily, Verstael was under no illusion that Prompto was skilled in combat, and he placed heavier emphasis on subjects he found important for Prompto’s success.

“Good, you’ll need to keep your grades up if you ever hope to enter a prestigious university,” he commented as he pulled into a parking space.

The conversation Prompto had with his father was the same every time they met, so he already knew what was coming next. It was the part he dreaded most.

“And what of your internships? What are you looking into for next year? This is a crucial time; you should be deciding on your future career.”

Still not looking at his father, Prompto took a deep breath.

_Here goes nothing._

“I’m entering the school art show this year. Mrs. Leonhart thinks I have a good chance of earning scholarship money, and Mr. Muir wants me to try a perform a guitar piece in the spring show.”

There was a lull in the conversation, strategically used to give Verstael the time to frown heavily as he cut the ignition off and faced Prompto.

“Music and photography aren’t going to get you anywhere in life. It’s time for you to devote yourself to something more beneficial to your future.”

It was a gamble on Prompto’s end to risk his father’s wrath by standing up for himself, but he was feeling the pressure from all sides and was tired of fighting for things he didn’t want without any reward.

_Can’t I keep this one thing? Is that too much to ask?_

“You said that so long as I kept my grades up you didn’t care what I did in my free time.”

Verstael laughed abruptly at Prompto’s reply, finally pushing the door open. Prompto did the same, walking side-by-side with his father, heart lodged in his throat.

The man didn’t speak until they were out of the garage and strolling down the city sidewalk, the suspense making Prompto break out into a cold sweat.

“Very well,” Verstael ultimately agreed. “For now, I will allow your pointless hobbies to continue, you will need to consider other pursuits next term.”

It wasn’t a straight yes, but it wasn’t a no either, and Prompto was going to take what he could get.

“Thank you, sir.”

They crossed the street at a stoplight, heading to one of his father’s favorite restaurants, an expensive eatery in the traditional Lucian style. Despite growing up in Niflheim, Verstael seemed to enjoy Insomnia’s finer delicacies.

Prompto held the door open for him as he spoke again.

“An off-campus internship. Working with me, perhaps.”

Stunned, and unsure how to respond, Prompto stood holding the door several seconds longer than he needed to, Verstael already inside.

“Come along, Prompto,” his father called gruffly.

Taken aback, Prompto didn’t speak right away, allowing his father and the hostess to speak before they were escorted to a private room enclosed in sliding doors paneled with thin rice paper. There were cushions on the floor with space cut out for their legs to dangle, and a low table with two lanterns overhead.

The hostess bowed as they entered, allowing them to go first. As was custom, Prompto and Verstael both slid off their shoes and left them outside the door before sitting across from one another. After pouring water and presenting them with menus, the woman left.

“Speak up, boy.” Verstael urged once they were alone.

Prompto thought back to his father’s suggestion.

 _Over my dead body,_ is what he wanted to say.

“You’ve never wanted me in your lab before,” he pointed out, trying to buy time to think.

It was true. If anything, he had always treated Prompto like a nuisance when it came to his work. He was ‘getting in the way’ or ‘holding Verstael back,’ which Prompto assumed meant his father preferred him to stay out of his business.

_Why the sudden change?_

“You wouldn’t be working on the experiments.” Verstael’s laugh was grating. Prompto hated it. “However, you are getting to an age now where you will need real life skills, and you could be of use to me.”

That phrase made Prompto’s skin crawl, but he should have known it was why his father had suggested it.

Sipping his water, Prompto nodded noncommittally. The last thing he wanted to do was help his father, but he was still too young to make decisions for himself. He couldn’t take too many risks.

“If it is so disagreeable to you, perhaps you could ask Prince Noctis if you could be of service to him.”

Prompto choked, nearly spitting water all over the table as he coughed violently. Setting the glass down, he turned his head to the side, covering his mouth with one arm.

As Prompto fought to pull himself together, his father took the opportunity to press even harder.

“It is of utmost importance for us that you make it your mission to befriend him. Having a connection to the royal family is crucial to our future.”

“W-what?” Prompto was finally able to gasp.

Their server appeared as if summoned, and Prompto was able to reduce his cough to a staccato sputter as his father ordered for the both of them, putting their one-sided conversation on hold.

The server was barely out of the room when Verstael picked up where he left off.

“Do you know what an audience with king could do for us? Of course, you don’t,” he sneered, answering his own question. “The sheer number of business opportunities that might present themselves if I were to secure funding from the throne could benefit us significantly. Don’t disappoint me, Prompto.”

 _Disappoint_ him _, of all people?_

Prompto chewed on the inside of his cheek as he stared absently into his water glass. He had spent his entire life trying to impress his father, but nothing was ever good enough. In his heart, he knew that it was only a matter of time before his father took away any remaining sliver of joy and happiness unless Prompto proved himself useful. That meant helping him make more friends in high places.

For one moment, he wished his father could see that everything he did was to make Verstael love him.

To Prompto’s relief, conversation lulled when their food arrived, and later, a phone call had Verstael stepping out of the booth and into the hall to answer it, sliding the screen door shut as he left.

 _Probably work related,_ he thought. His father’s work always came first, and Prompto was sure he ranked somewhere near the bottom of Verstael’s priority list.

Placing his elbows on the table, he rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes, wishing he could disappear. Part of him thought it would be great to be expelled from the academy like Prince Noctis hoped to, but Prompto wasn’t royalty, and his future wasn’t assured.

In that sense, his father was right. If his business wasn’t successful, Prompto’s life would be over. Useless to his father and a Niflheim bastard, there would be no place left for him in Insomnia.

It was hard to enjoy the rest of his meal with Verstael’s words hanging over his head. How was he supposed to ‘befriend’ Noctis when he wanted Prompto’s help in getting kicked out of the academy?

Throughout the rest of their time at the restaurant, Verstael made no further effort to engage Prompto in conversation. Secretly, Prompto was relieved. It was plain to see now that the only reason the man had taken Prompto to dinner was reemphasize the role his son played in his financial plans.

Some days, Prompto considered giving up entirely, but as soon as his enrollment at the academy stopped benefitting Verstael, he knew his father would pull him out of the school.

Being at the academy had at least one advantage—it kept him away from his father—so he would continue serving as Verstael’s obedient pawn until he secured his own freedom.

The car ride back to the academy was spent in silence, just like their drive downtown.

During their time at dinner it had started to rain, and Prompto leaned his head against the window to watch as tiny rivulets cascaded down the glass. When they finally pulled up to the curb at the school, Verstael gave one parting remark.

“I’ll be attending the parent meetings for mid-quarter reports next week. Don’t forget what we spoke of.”

Prompto thought he gave a generic answer as he got out, but it wouldn’t have mattered what he said. He knew his father wasn’t listening.

After checking back in at the front office, he made his way through the now empty hallways up to the second-floor dormitories.

When he reached his room, he put his key in the lock and turned it like he had done thousands of times before, not thinking anything of it.

He dropped his briefcase in the doorway, then lifted his head.

“About time,” Prince Noctis said.

Prompto screamed—loudly, and in a tone that might have suggested a woman was getting murdered, falling onto his butt after crashing painfully against the door.

The prince was wearing only a towel, wet hair matted against his head, and he huffed indignantly from where he stood in the middle of the room.

“What’s gotten into you?”

 _What’s gotten into me?_ Prompto wondered incredulously.

His mouth was working, but no words were coming out, so Prompto waved to all of Noctis, as if the answer should be evident. The prince merely proceeded to walk over to the closet— _Prompto’s_ closet—and pull out a pair of cotton pants and a t-shirt from one of the dresser drawers contained inside.

Without ceremony, he dropped his towel to get dressed, and Prompto’s eyes shot up to the ceiling so fast that the room spun.

“ _Dude,_ that’s my closet!”

“Oh.”

A shrug was his only acknowledgment, hardly what Prompto would consider an apology. Noctis then sat on the bottom bunk of the bed— _Prompto’s_ bed.

“Your Highness, uh…”

“Noct,” he amended, which Prompto couldn’t hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

“That’s…that is…”

Noctis waited, but eventually the sentence died on Prompto’s lips, caving under the pressure of his father’s will that always lurked in the back of his mind.

_Time to make ‘friends.’_

“Nothing,” he finished, sullen.

“Cool, well, do you think you can help me with this homework? I don’t know any of this stuff,” the prince explained, pointing to the papers on the desk he had appropriated (also Prompto’s).

Praying to any god that was listening for patience, Prompto forced a smile and a nod.

“Yep, no problem-o. I’ll have it done in a jiffy.”

Prince Noctis went to sleep well before his new roommate finished taking notes for the prince’s classes and completing the price’s worksheets.

 _Shouldn’t he already know this stuff?_ Prompto thought as he caught his head nodding, the clock on the wall reading an ungodly hour that he didn’t want to accept.

He understood that coming in midway through the quarter might be difficult, but Noctis was in two courses that Prompto wasn’t currently taking, which meant he had to spend extra time doing some research and studying of his own.

When Prompto eventually finished, light was peeking through the blinds. He crawled into the top bunk and closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling him effortlessly to sleep.

* * *

Before Prompto knew it, his alarm was ringing obnoxiously in his ear. Groggily, he rolled over to turn it off, groaning pitifully. When he managed to sit up, he was immediately met by Noctis staring at him from where he perched at the end of the bed, a manila folder clenched in one hand.

It was the same folder Headmaster Izunia had given him.

Prompto froze, eyes widening.

“Where did you get this?” Noctis asked, tossing the file that so that its contents scattered across the sheets. His perfectly shaped eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

_It’s too early for this._

Prompto had to wonder if he did something wrong in a past life to deserve all of this bad luck.

Blearily, Prompto tried to gather his thoughts. The dossier must have fallen out of his briefcase when Noctis surprised him.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Prompto insisted, flinging the covers back to crawl out of bed.

“Oh, really?” he questioned sarcastically. Prompto winced at the obvious skepticism in his tone.

Noctis was already descending the ladder, slipping on his shoes by the time Prompto’s feet hit the floor.

“I haven’t even looked at it, I swear! Headmaster Izunia gave it to me yesterday to learn more about you, and—” Prompto stopped, catching sight of the clock. “Dear gods, is it really eight o’ clock in the morning?” he demanded.

Busy fidgeting with his tie, Noctis didn’t turn to look at his roommate as he answered.

“Yeah, I turned off your alarm last night. Figured we could both use the sleep.”

Prompto had never wanted to punch someone more in his life, but instead he bottled his anger and rushed into their bathroom to brush his teeth, grabbing clothes as he went.

“Cu-wass sta-ahts in fif-een mi-nuhs,” Prompto complained through a mouthful of toothpaste. Spitting in the sink, he yanked on his pants, fingers deftly weaving to secure his tie in place over his shirt.

“Good thing we’re not going to class then,” Noctis commented, reminding Prompto of what he had already forgotten.

He instantly felt some of the nervous energy inside him evaporate, but only enough to take the edge off. Noctis leaned in the doorway, watching Prompto with unveiled curiosity

“Do you mind?” Prompto grumbled, zipping his pants up and buttoning them. In the mirror he could see the pink coloring his cheeks, suddenly flustered all over again.

“Are you always like this?” The prince sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

Some of the annoyance Prompto had initially felt returned in full force.

 _Well, excuse_ me _if some of us can’t afford to make mistakes or risk their parents maiming them._

“It’s not exactly easy being me, and you’re not making it any easier,” Prompto retorted, immediately regretting it.

He braced himself for a withering comeback, but none came. Noctis just continued to study Prompto, arms folded in contemplation.

It was honestly more disconcerting than being yelled at.

“Sorry, I kinda lost my cool. I can show you around now—if that’s cool.”

A smile, brief, but genuine, appeared on the prince’s lips, completely at odds with what Prompto anticipated.

_Maybe I’m dreaming._

“Give me the full tour,” Noctis requested in all seriousness.

Neither of them spoke at first, walking through the crowded halls peppered with students on their way to class. After the first bell rang though, they became very much alone, and Prompto’s unease turned palpable.

Prompto had the annoying habit of babbling uncontrollably whenever he was uncomfortable, and he rattled off pointless facts of things they passed,a his nerves kicked into high gear.

“…and that’s the main office there, which is run by Ms. Lulu and her student interns. She’s very moody and edgy, and a lot of people say she’s a dark mage who was transferred to the academy as a form of punishment. Some others say she’s a mob boss’s wife. I guess a lot of people think she’s pretty attractive, but I think it might just be because she wears a lot of low cut shirts, you know?”

When Prompto decided to catch his breath, he realized Noctis was watching him with a grin.

“You think she’s hot?”

Prompto reacted like he had been mortally wounded, absolutely horrified.

“What?! No, ew, gross!”

His words reverberated up to the high ceilings, along with Noctis’s laugh.

Noctis had a nice laugh—and for a fleeting moment, Prompto was surprised that he actually felt happy.

“ _Dude_ , that’s just what people say, alright?” he chuckled.

“Gotcha.”

Noctis shoved his hands in the pockets as they continued to wander through the first level of the academy, Prompto’s discomfort ebbing.

He even managed to sound mostly put together as he pointed out where all of the classes were in relation to the library, auditorium, swimming pool, gymnasium, and courtyard. The more time they spent together, the more fluid Prompto’s thoughts became.

Eventually, he was able to stop rambling and just _be_ , something Prompto had never experienced before.

They ran the gamut of topics, from who the best teachers were and which classes were easy to pass, to which to avoid. Prompto explained the block class and quarter school year system that the academy followed, then the prominent school events like the spring festival, summer sports day, midterms, the fall art competition and exhibit, and winter finals. Noctis absorbed most of it without commenting, but Prompto could tell he was listening by the way he tilted his head towards him as Prompto talked.

 _Really_ listening, not only pretending to.

Once they had covered the first floor, they made quick work of the second. It was mostly dormitories anyway. The wings were divided by year, so first year high school students lived on the south hall, second years in the west, third years in the east, and fourth years in the north. Middle schoolers occasionally lived on campus if their parents approved it, but they were in smaller wing supervised by hall monitors, a duty which rotated each week between various teachers. With permission, fourth years were able to get apartments off campus, but those who did were few and far between considering most students come from other countries. Noctis didn’t show any interest in the communal study lounges.

They came to the third floor as it was nearing lunch time and were just passing the infirmary when Prompto spied Lunafreya sitting at the reception desk, head bowed over a chart she was flipping through.

“Oh, and that’s—” Noctis had hurried past Prompto so that by the time Lunafreya actually glanced up, he was halfway down the hall.

Prompto frowned, noting that it was the second time he had fled when seeing her, and wondered if it wasn’t just a coincidence. Running to catch up, Prompto called after him.

“Hey—slow down.”

“Are these the teachers’ offices?” Noctis asked. He had stopped in front of a bulletin board that had a map and directory of the floor affixed to it.

“Yeah, this tells you where you can find each teacher and their office hours. Headmaster Izunia’s office is separate from everyone else’s though, so you’ll have to reach him by going up that staircase,” Prompto answered, finger hovering over a stair icon on the board’s map.

Noctis scanned the directory quietly and Prompto shifted his weight from one foot to the other, patiently for him to finish.

“Where does this lead?” Noctis asked, pointing to another staircase on the map.

“Oh, that? To the roof, I think,” Prompto guessed. He leaned in to take a closer look.

“C’mon.” Noctis was already turning down the hall.

“W-wait!”

 _Man, he’s faster than he looks,_ Prompto thought as he once again ran to catch him.

When Prompto reached him, Noctis was pushing open a door at the top of the stairs.

They emerged on the roof of the Insomnian Academy, just as Prompto had guessed, and since the school had been built in a more traditional style, it had long ramparts like a castle, lined by parapets. The walkways connected all four corners of the academy building in a square, the decorative bastions at every point housing a main staircase.

“Wow, that’s cool,” the prince said as he stood against one of the rails facing into the central courtyard. “Look.”

He pointed, Prompto’s stomach flipping as he followed the finger’s trajectory downwards. He had never seen the courtyard from so high up. From this angle he could see how the multicolored tiles broken up by trees and water features created a stylized mosaic of Lucis.

 _Huh, that_ is _cool._

Noctis continued across the wall as Prompto trailed behind him warily, praying that no teachers happened to find them exploring an area that was strictly off limits.

Noctis waved to the tallest tower that sat at the back of the building, only accessibly from the top floor.

“What’s that there?”

“Oh, that’s where I was going to take you next. It’s the chapel.”

“There’s a church here? What, dedicated to the Six?”

There was a bite to Noctis’s question, and Prompto picked his words carefully.

“It’s not dedicated to any god—at least, I don’t think it is. It’s kinda for anyone to use, not that many do. Sometimes I just go there to think.”

Seeming to find the answer acceptable, Noctis pointed at another building past the academy walls in the field behind it.

“And that?”

“That’s the gardens and the greenhouse where some of the food is grown for the cafeteria. It’s really peaceful to walk through when the weather is—” Prompto’s breath was knocked out of his chest as Noctis hopped on top of the low wall, jumping carelessly between the embracements.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he demanded.

“Don’t worry,” Noctis said with an absurd level of self-assurance. “I’m fine.”

It was most certainly _not_ fine. One slip and the prince would fall three stories to his death, and with Prompto being the last person to see him alive, he would undoubtedly take the blame for it.

And if the king didn’t kill Prompto, his father would.

“Please, Your Highness, save the death-defying feats for another time!” Prompto pleaded, not bothering to mask his fear any longer.

Noctis looked over his shoulder with the same apathy he had given Mr. Crescent when he was late, reigniting Prompto’s rage that had died over the course of the morning.

“What, afraid that if I fall it will come down on your head?” Noctis questioned not-so-innocently.

“Yes!” Prompto yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. “C’mon Noctis, stop messing with me!”

“ _Finally_! I thought you’d never drop the ‘Your Highness’ crap.”

The prince looked like he was enjoying this _way_ too much, and Prompto didn’t like it—not one bit.

Ignoring the jab, Prompto moved a few desperate steps closer before lunging forward in an attempt to grab him, but Noctis danced out of reach, teetering briefly. Prompto gasped, his heart stopping for one terrifying moment, then resumed as Noctis regained his balance.

The prince tsked.

“You’re gonna have to be faster than that.”

“Please, I haven’t _done_ anything to you!” Prompto cried, feeling actual tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “If you get hurt—”

“What’s the real reason you had that file on me?” Noctis interrupted, gray eyes sparking with lightning.

_Is that why he’s doing this? He’s angry with me?_

The realization was like a slap in the face.

“I already told you!” Prompto insisted, praying that the prince would believe him.

Everything happened faster than Prompto could blink, and yet, seemed to go in slow motion.

Noctis stepped over the wall, and Prompto’s mouth dropped open as the prince fell quicker than Prompto was able to scream.

_Oh gods—oh my fucking gods—!_

Prompto tripped as he rushed to the railing, practically throwing himself after Noctis. He couldn’t bear to look, but knew he had to, fully expecting a mangled mess of limbs and blood splatter to be on the front steps of the academy below.

But there were no astonished on-lookers staring up at him in accusation. In fact, the ground was as spotless as ever, and people came and went out of the front doors of the school without so much as a glance up in Prompto’s direction.

“What the…?”

Just like in the cafeteria, he had disappeared _literally_ out of thin air.

“Looking for me?”

Prompto swung around so fast that he got dizzy, and he leaned against the parapet, letting it support his weight.

Noctis Lucis Caelum of Insomnia stood before him—completely unharmed. Prompto felt all of the color draining from his face in an icy wave.

“How did you…are you dead? Am _I_ dead?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“I told you it was fine,” Noctis stated, smiling as he walked away.

As Prompto recovered from his shock, he became indignant.

“You’re not going to explain what just happened? _Dude_ , I saw you go over the edge!”

“Guess you really didn’t read that file,” Noctis commented, nodding as if confirming something.

 _Wait, was that a test?_ _What. An. Asshole._

“I’m starving. Let’s grab some lunch,” he suggested then, yawning as he stretched both arms overhead.

“Dude, no way, you’ve got to tell me how you did that!”

Noctis kept his secret all the way into the cafeteria, waiting until they sat in Prompto’s usual spot.

It could have been his hunger, the sleep-deprivation, or the simple fact that Prompto had felt his life (and what he thought was the life of the prince) flash before his eyes, but his usual shy, submissive self had vanished. He had to know what sort of sorcery had just occurred.

Folding his arms, Noctis reclined in the booth with a shake of his head.

“You honestly don’t know? I thought everyone did.”

He was dragging the conversation out a little longer, thoroughly enjoying himself, and like a fish on the line, Prompto let the prince reel him in.

“No, _what_? Tell me!”

“Alright, alright!”

There was Noctis’s laugh again, creating butterflies in Prompto’s stomach.

“I’m the Prince of Lucis, remember? You ever heard of the Crystal? It’s the source of my family’s magic, and the magic of the Glaive. Ringing any bells?”

Prompto nodded like he understood, but he really did not. Noctis looked honestly stunned.

“…it means I have the ability to warp and to use an Armiger. It comes in handy if I ever fall from somewhere—I can just warp to whatever point I need to.”

“Whoa, that is hella cool!” Prompto knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care.

Noctis, on the other hand, actually looked somewhat embarrassed, gaze falling down to his plate with a shy smile.

“…not really, but thanks.”

_Not really?_

Prompto saw something in the prince then that he recognized in himself—insecurity. But what reason would the Prince of Lucis have to be insecure?

“If you had bothered to read through that file, you would know why I’m here.” Noctis delayed, scraping a fork through a mound of mash potatoes with no plan to eat them. “My dad didn’t feel like I was making enough progress at the Citadel. He said that if I don’t do well at the academy, he’ll be forced to marry me off to Luna to seal a deal with Niflheim.” Another scraping of Noctis’s fork, a little louder. “…since he’s not in the best health.”

 _Oh._ That _was the reason._

Prompto assumed Noctis was hinting that his father didn’t think him suited to take the throne if he died, and that was heavy information to process.

Swallowing hard, Prompto considered the raised stakes that Noctis had placed before him. Prompto didn’t know much about politics, but he guessed that Noctis getting expelled would only complicate things, not solve them.

At least now he knew why Noctis had been avoiding Lunafreya.

“Isn’t there some other way?” he questioned in confusion.

“Who knows?” This time, when Noctis shrugged, he looked like just another scared teenager. It was endearing—and dangerous. Prompto knew he couldn’t afford to get too comfortable.

 _He’s a prince, he’s not my friend,_ but then, Noctis said something that made Prompto’s resolve waver.

“I don’t want to be some pawn in a political game just because my dad wants me to be. I never asked for any of this.”

Prompto grew quiet, thinking on his own relationship with his father. Despite his and Noctis’s differences, they had something in common. It was made him think that Noctis was fighting a losing battle, but Prompto didn’t have the heart to break the news to him.

Out of nowhere, Prompto finally got an idea—one that he hoped was crazy enough to work.

“Is your father coming to the mid-quarter reviews next week?” He tried to hide his excitement, not willing to get his hopes up just yet.

It resulted in another shrug from Noctis—Prompto was quickly discovering that it was his signature move.

“Who knows?”

“All right, bear with me, but I think we need to convince your dad to pull you out of the academy.”

Noctis laughed, thinking Prompto had to be joking, but when the blond didn’t laugh too, he scooted forward, frowning.

“ _That’s_ your plan?” It can with a heavy dose of doubt, but Prompto considered himself an expert in dealing with overbearing fathers.

“You got it. Changing his mind is priority one. So! Are you in, or what?”

The prince was shaking his head, but Prompto could see him smiling—another true smile. This one stayed a few seconds longer than the last, causing pride to swell in Prompto’s chest, warm fuzzy feelings spreading along with it.

“Alright, Argentum. Have it your way.”

They finally ate after that, sharing a silence that had transformed from anxiety-inducing into something softer, almost comfortable. For the first time in all his years, Prompto didn’t feel the need to put up a wall or be on his guard.

If the feeling wasn’t meant to last, Prompto at least wanted to enjoy it—even if only for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some key differences I made compared to my original version:  
> \- Noctis used to be much more of an asshole. I made him a lot more aloof and indifferent in this version to fit his character better.  
> \- On the rooftop, in the original story Prompto grabs for Noctis and he falls. I felt that having him choose to fall would be a more powerful statement.  
> \- Noctis's explanation for why he's at the academy is also different and a lot more sympathetic. In the original, his father was basically threatening to marry him off if he didn't shape up, and it seemed too harsh for Regis


	4. Making Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the stakes raised, Prompto realizes he's going to need a little help to satisfy Prince Noctis and still meet his father's expectations. 
> 
> When he goes searching for that help, he makes an unlikely friend.

Prompto quickly adjusted to life with Noctis in the days that followed.

Unlike him, the prince often overslept, which meant Prompto was responsible for making sure he got to breakfast and first period on time. He was an absolute behemoth to wake up though, and sometimes he cursed at Prompto only to apologize sleepily when he finally stumbled into the bathroom.

They developed a rhythm of interaction that happened naturally. They’d wake up, have breakfast together, walk to first period, see each other in third period and sit together at lunch, then meet back up for dinner. At night, Prompto helped Noctis with his homework (“dude, I can’t do yours _and_ mine forever”) and then they’d play videogames.

Noctis had the latest update for King’s Knight, and they teamed up on raids to destroy all the competition. It felt good, the two of them working together like actual friends, plus it was _fun_ , something that Prompto wasn’t accustomed to having. Fun enough that he ignored the nagging voice in his head that said it was too good to last.

Day in and day out, Prompto’s life came to revolve around Noctis, ironically, just as Verstael and Headmaster Izunia had planned. Somehow, even following his father’s wishes, Prompto was happier than he had ever been before.

Of course, there was a downside to being around Noctis. He attracted attention—a _lot_ of attention. Part of Prompto wondered why the prince continued to eat with him at every meal when he had a million more suitable options available to him. People would approach him multiple times per day, inviting him to parties or asking him to hang out, all the while pretending Prompto wasn’t sitting next to him. Which made it strangely satisfying when he coolly declined every invitation.

Prompto could see the animosity in their eyes as Noctis turned them down though, as if thinking, ‘ _why are you so special?’_

He envied Noctis’s ability to do and say whatever he wanted, something he never had the courage to do.

It didn’t take long for the rumors to start after that— _Prompto’s dad must be paying a lot of money to the crown for Noctis’s friendship. There’s no way he would hang out with a Niff bastard._

Prompto was too afraid to ask Noctis about it in case it was somehow true. In all honesty, it sounded like something his father would do.

It was at the end of one particularly long week when Prompto was walking with Noctis to Tactics and Arms that he had his first true run-in with trouble since meeting Noctis. Of course, it all started when he caught sight of his least favorite Prince of Tenebrae rounding a corner.

Ravus, surrounded by a few of his lackeys, was making a bee line for the two of them, his buddies fanning across the hall to block them from passing.

Prompto had tugged on Noctis’s sleeve, subtly trying to get his attention, but Noctis had his head in his briefcase searching for something and hadn’t noticed.

“To think that His Royal Highness associates with this rabble. Truly, a shame and a disgrace.”

Ravus’s eyes cut over to Prompto and the blond immediately looked away. Noctis, head lifting slowly, found Ravus staring at him in obvious challenge.

For the first time since Prompto had met the Prince of Lucis, he actually appeared visibly angry, a vein pulsing in his neck as his fists clenched around his briefcase.

_Oh shit, are they about to fight?_

Prompto found himself torn between wanting to run and staying to watch. He’d never known anyone who stood up to Ravus and didn’t immediately become a social pariah.

“What do you want, Ravus?” Noctis asked, voice charged with an underlying threat.

Students were slowing, whispering behind their hands at what was obviously about to become a scene. It made Prompto nervous, but he had no other choice but to stand awkwardly at Noctis’s side.

“What do _I_ want, Your Highness?” Ravus’s smile was nothing like Noctis’s, all teeth and no warmth. “What I want is for you to remember your place. If you are to be wed to my Luna, Six forbid, you should do nothing to disgrace her. Associating with those who are _beneath_ you will do just that.”

Ravus’s aura chilled Prompto to his bone marrow. Like a hawk rising on the wind, Ravus was looking for an opportunity to strike. Prompto’s eyes slid slowly to Noctis, who was surveying the older boy before him.

_Maybe he does care what people think of him—which means our friendship is over._

Prompto was preparing to be publicly disowned then and there, but Noctis staggered his stance, allowing his briefcase to come back to his side with a carefree swing.

His eyes lit up—lightning struck.

“Well, thanks for the tip, but the only person who’s gonna be beneath me is your sister, so you can keep your advice.”

The inhalation of Prompto’s next breath was so sharp that it actually hurt.

It was quieter in the hallway than Prompto could ever remember, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Ravus, let alone continue to breathe. The heat emanating off the Tenebraean prince rivaled the power of Ifrit himself.

Everyone was at a standstill in the hallway, and Prompto was certain it was the calm before the storm.

_This. This is how I die. It has been a mediocre, short life._

“Hey Noct!” A voice rang out, breaking the tension if only for a split second.

Noctis and Prompto both looked to see Gladio Amicitia heading their way, waving an arm in greeting.

_Great._

And here Prompto had thought the situation couldn’t get any worse.

Gladio slowed, reading the mood instantly. In all honesty, you didn’t need to be literate to read it.

“Ravus,” he greeted stiffly, nodding once before moving to stand on the other side of Noctis.

It was a silent show of support for the Lucian prince, and it gave Prompto hope that the scales might tip in their favor.

Ravus’s strangled expression of rage hadn’t changed since Noctis’s insult, but the silver-haired prince seemed to realize that continuing this in front of an audience wouldn’t be the wisest course of action.

They all had reputations to uphold.

“You will get _exactly_ what you deserve, mark my words,” Ravus seethed. His eyes shot daggers the three of them before turning on his heel, sweeping away like a hurricane.

Everyone stepped to the side, knowing better than to stand in his way.

Prompto finally released the breath he had been holding, suddenly sick to his stomach.

“Making friends already, princess?” Gladio asked once Ravus was out of sight.

Prompto balked at Gladio’s blatant disrespect towards Noctis, but the prince merely shrugged.

“I don’t need you to save me. I can handle him.”

Gladio’s chuckle sounded less like the growl Prompto was used to and more like rolling thunder on a mid-summer’s day. Awestruck, the blond observed as Gladio clapped Noctis on the back like they were old friends.

It had never occurred to Prompto that they might know each other. Apparently, he didn’t know as much about the students at the academy as he thought.

When Gladio turned his attention to Prompto, he shrank down out of habit, willing himself to disappear.

“I’ve heard that you and Argentum here are best buds.”

Gladio’s arm was around Prompto’s neck before he was able to protest, the upperclassman steering him firmly down the hall as Noctis fell into step beside them. Even after they had turned the corner, Gladio’s arm continued to rest on Prompto’s shoulder.

It made him incredibly uncomfortable, anticipating that Gladio would choke the life out of him at a moment’s notice, but he never did.

“He’s my roommate,” Noctis explained aloofly.

“I call bullshit on that. I never hung out with any of my roommates,” Gladio retorted.

“You scared all of them off,” Noctis replied matter-of-factly, and Gladio shrugged, not denying the claim.

They reached the gym just before the late bell and strolled into the locker room. Prompto wondered how they could act so casual after being threatened by Ravus, another show of confidence that he severely lacked.

“You’ve gotta be careful, Noct. Actions have consequences,” Gladio grunted while stripping off his shirt.

Prompto tried not to look at Gladio’s rippling back muscles, or the way the senior’s abs tightened as he pulled his gym shirt over his head, weighing Gladio’s words.

There was no way he wasn’t talking about Noctis’s ‘friendship’ with Prompto. The Prince of Lucis had no business hanging out with a Niflheim refugee—a nobody.

Prompto blinked when he realized Gladio was staring at him. He’d spaced out for a second, deep in thought.

“Like what you see?”

Gladio _winked_ , and Prompto’s face turned as red as a Lucian tomato.

“S-sorry—” He immediately busied himself with putting on his gym uniform, and Noctis let the conversation die without acknowledging or responding to Gladio’s warning.

Prompto let Mr. Crescent’s lecture on the different techniques required for daggers, short swords, and broad swords wash over him, but didn’t absorb them. His mind was too preoccupied with Ravus and Gladio.

Helping Noctis was all well and good, but what if Prompto was getting in over his head? Things that Noctis did could have _real-world_ repercussions, and Prompto wasn’t sure if he was prepared to deal with that.

He fumbled through drills, his form suffering more than usual as he worried. At the end of class, frustrated and exhausted, he took a break and watched as Gladio and Noctis paired up. They fought with practice swords of course, but he could tell that the two took sparring more seriously than he would have thought.

It was the first time he had seen Noctis actually _try_ , and Prompto paused with a bottle of water halfway to his mouth as he saw a sheen of sweat on the prince’s face. Gladio had a broadsword in hand, and he didn’t seem to be holding back, swinging powerfully at Noctis and forcing him to dance out of range, the prince wielding a short sword.

There was a familiarity—a playfulness—reflected in every movement, which made Prompto think they had done this before, and a surprising pang of loneliness ached in his chest.

He shoved it down, focusing more intently on Gladio and Noctis as they danced in and out of each other’s reach, neither one able to land a blow. They didn’t stop moving until the bell rang. When Prompto managed to tear his eyes away, he realized that the rest of the class had stopped to watch too.

“Well done.” The praise came from Mr. Crescent, who was standing against the wall. Prompto had never heard their instructor compliment a student— _ever_.

Gladio and Noctis were both breathing heavily but adopted the same air of nonchalance as they nodded to one another, heading for the locker room.

_It’s a draw._

Prompto was sullen on his walk to World History, reflecting on the obvious connection Noctis and Gladio shared. It was stupid to feel jealous, and he knew it, but for some reason he couldn’t help himself.

_Don’t be dumb, Prompto, you’re not the prince’s only friend—you’re not his friend at all._

In his mind he could hear Noctis’s nonchalant _He’s my roommate_ , and he took a deep breath, vowing not to get more invested than Noctis clearly was—or wasn’t, rather.

“Hey, Argentum!”

Prompto dodged the stony-eyed glares he received from nearby students as Gladio called after him, jogging until he reached Prompto’s side.

“What?” Prompto demanded, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. If there was any, Gladio ignored it.

“I know how Noctis can be—so, thanks.” It seemed genuine, which was confusing for him.

_Why is he thanking me?_

If he knew why he had become Noctis’s ‘friend’ in the first place, he definitely wouldn’t be.

Gladio nudged Prompto when he didn’t respond, knocking him sideways. Looking up, Prompto found that he was smiling, and the blond unintentionally found himself comparing the senior’s smile to Noctis’s.

It was warm like a sunrise jutting over the edge of a mountain. It had never been just for him before, and he felt its heat washing over his face.

Suddenly it made sense why people flocked to him. It was a smile someone would kill for.

“Don’t let him drag you into anything stupid. He has a knack for that.”

Guilt overshadowing him, Prompto wondered if he should mention what he and Noctis were planning. After some deliberation, he started to open his mouth to confess, but was saved abruptly by the person he least expected.

“Who has a knack for stupidity?”

The two turned in unison to find Ignis Scientia leaning casually by the classroom door.

“No one—” Prompto was quick to say, but Gladio was even quicker.

“Noctis.”

“Ah.”

Ignis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a sigh, drawing attention to the green of his eyes—fresh grass in springtime.

_Is it hot in here?_

Prompto wasn’t used to being talked to so much, at least not in a friendly way, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it. He tried not to draw attention to the fact he was sweating by running a hand absently through his hair.

“Would you care to explain?” Ignis inquired, this time zeroing in on Gladio.

Another first: seeing Gladio Amicitia squirm.

“Noct may have insulted a certain surly prince of Tenebrae.”

Ignis did a slow blink and Prompto stifled a laugh. It clearly said what he would not: _what the fuck?_

“It seems we have much to discuss,” the senior class president said diplomatically before turning to walk into World History.

Taking his lead, they filed in behind Ignis and took their seats. Mr. Valentine already had his lecture up on the projector, and Prompto let his secret sink back into the recesses of his mind in favor of flipping through his notes.

 _I’ll tell him later,_ Prompto decided, but he knew he was lying to himself.

It was midway through class as Mr. Valentine droned on about the first Lucian king that Gladio snatched Prompto’s notebook from off his desk to write something in the corner of the page. When he finally returned it, Prompto studied what he had written, not fully comprehending the sequence of numbers he had scrawled in his messy penmanship.

 _“In case you need help with His Royal Pain in the Ass,”_ he had written beneath it.

It slowly dawned on Prompto that Gladio Amicitia had just given him his phone number.

For the remainder of the period, he tried to interpret what it could possibly mean. Did he already know that he and Noctis were planning something? He couldn’t bring himself to look at Gladio, although every so often he noticed the older boy glancing in his direction.

One question from Gladio and his mask would crack, so as soon as the bell rang, he bolted, not even taking time to put his notebook and pencil case properly back in his briefcase. When Gladio tried to say something, Prompto pretended he didn’t hear it, quickening his pace.

He wasn’t sure why he was anxious, but he felt like his world was about to turn upside down. Prompto was so used to everyone ignoring him on the best of days that the attention he was getting was almost too much for him to handle.

To avoid talking to Noctis, he skipped lunch, certain the prince would see straight through him in one look. Instead, he sat in the corner of the library, mulling over his options over and over again.

When it was time for Prompto’s private session with Mr. Muir, he was completely and thoroughly exhausted. Everything was catching up to him, the pressure of pleasing everyone, an impossible problem with no solution, crashing down on the student’s shoulders.

His music was off because of it—chords hit wrong, out of tune. It was when he paused to switch to a different song that Mr. Muir cleared his throat.

“You seem… out of sorts. Maybe you would benefit from trying something new?”

It was a sign that things had truly gotten bad if even Prompto’s teachers were starting to notice his distress. At least he could be thankful that he had the weekend to catch up on sleep and hopefully calm his racing mind.

Mr. Muir was moving to hand him a small packet of papers, and Prompto accepted them with furrowed brows.

“Miss Yuna is in need of a musician to play for her solo piece in the spring show. I recommended you to her and said I would give you the sheet music to see what you thought.”

“Yuna?” Prompto asked, unable to hide his surprise.

The face of the kind girl he shared wall-space with during his advising period flashed through his head.

_That Yuna?_

Mr. Muir nodded, smiling gently.

“I think your talents would be well matched. At the very least, it will give you a new challenge to focus on.”

 _A new challenge?_ _I have too many of those lately_ , Prompto thought bitterly.

Outwardly, all he said was: “Thank you sir, I’ll look into it.”

After their session ended, he remained in the music room a bit longer to thumb curiously through the pages of Yuna’s piece, hands strumming over his guitar strings idly as he attempted an initial run through. The music itself wasn’t very difficult, and he was soon humming the melody as he picked it up with ease. It was slow, but heart felt, and he wondered how Yuna’s voice would sound paired with it.

Prompto got back to his room later than usual, relieved when he didn’t see Noctis at dinner, but then immediately disappointed to find him missing when he opened the door.

_Probably for the best._

Dropping his briefcase on the floor, he stripped down to his boxers before crawling into the top bunk.

Sleep came easier than he expected, his body and mind both too tired for the blond’s usual anxious thoughts.

* * *

When his eyelids fluttered open, Prompto noticed that there was a pale glow coming through the blinds. Everything was blessedly still, yet something was off.

The clock read 11:15—he hardly ever slept in.

_Guess I really was tired._

Gentle snoring below him put Prompto’s mind at ease. It appeared Noctis had come in without him ever realizing it.

With nothing pressing on his agenda for the day, Prompto sank slowly back into the pillows and grabbed his phone.

Mid-term parent meetings were on Monday, followed by exams, which meant it would soon be time to put his plan into action. Miraculously, the prince hadn’t asked him for any more details on it, trusting him implicitly.

And that worried him to no end.

He thought back on the Headmaster Izunia and his father’s warnings that his future would be in jeopardy if he didn’t prove his worth at the academy. Everything was coming to a head, and something would have to give.

The true question was, what would Prompto choose? Noctis? Or the headmaster and his father?

It was undeniable—he _was_ in over his head—and despite everything it was telling him, he knew the answer to his own question.

After an hour, Prompto grew restless. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, he climbed down from the top bunk before slipping into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Padding out of the dorm, he found himself going to the study lounge at the end of the hall, relieved to find it empty when he arrived, probably because it was a Saturday. Taking a seat on one of the leather couches, Prompto went to the contacts on his phone, hovering over the number he had recently saved.

Trying not to overthink it, he hastily wrote out a text:

Gladio Amicitia  
  
Heya, if it’s not too much trouble, could we meet up? I gotta talk to you.   
  


Prompto wasn’t expecting a response, so when his phone buzzed less than a minute later, he stared down at Gladio’s reply. After weighing his options, he typed back, Gladio's answers coming steadily with each text sent.

Gladio Amicitia  
  
Sure, where at?  
  
The library?  
  
lol  
  
on a Saturday??  
  
yeah, that okay??  
  
sure  
  
now?  
  


He looked down at what he was wearing and cringed.

Gladio Amicitia  
  
gimme 30 mins?  
  
Yup. See you soon  
  


It was almost too easy to arrange a meeting with Gladio, and Prompto immediately went into panic mode after sending his final text message. Hurrying back to his room, he showered and dressed, Noctis never moving from where he was curled under the covers.

Since they didn’t have class, he was able to wear something other than his uniform, and after changing his mind half a dozen times, Prompto put on his nicest pair of jeans and a soft blue t-shirt that brought out his eyes.

He was fifteen minutes early to the library, and he immediately found a table hidden near the back to wait, hands clasped on the table to keep from drumming his fingers over it.

_This is a mistake._

He had almost convinced himself to cancel when Gladio came into view, stepping around a corner of a bookshelf.

It was strange to see him wearing a leather jacket with his hair slicked back and jeans that made his leg muscles look even bigger—an impressive feat. Prompto had never seen him out of uniform and belatedly realized how attractive he was.

_Wait, what?_

“Yo,” Gladio greeted.

Quickly putting his mask on, Prompto smiled and waved.

“So, what’s so important that we had to come to the library on the weekend?” the upperclassman teased as he took a seat.

The awkwardness of being alone with Gladio suddenly hit Prompto in the gut and his mouth went dry.

“Uh, well, actually—it’s about Noctis.”

It felt wrong to use his name so casually, but the senior didn’t seem offended. In fact, he actually chuckled.

“Ooh, I see. Got a little crush and need a wingman? Honestly, I’m kinda offended.” He grinned wolfishly as he bent forward, the smell of his cologne wafting over Prompto like an ambrosia. “For a second I kinda thought you were asking _me_ on a date.”

_What…_

_WHAT?_

Prompto wasn’t sure what his face did, but it elicited a hearty laugh from Gladio.

“N-no—that’s not—” Why were words so difficult? The blond barely resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands.

“Easy, killer, I’m only joking.”

Even with the reassurance, Prompto remained on edge, foot now bouncing beneath the table.

“It’s nothing like that,” he finally said after he regained some of his nerve.

Much to Prompto’s relief, Gladio seemed to realize he was serious and didn’t interrupt again, sitting back with a look of intense concentration.

“Noctis is…” How did he want to phrase this?

“…a pain in the ass?” Gladio said, a smile in his eyes.

“No, no, he’s fine—” Prompto stopped again, frustrated with how difficult this was becoming. “He…doesn’t want to be here.”

It seemed like a good start, but Gladio didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“Of course not. He hates school.” The upperclassman didn’t ridicule Prompto for stating the obvious though, clearly expecting him to say more.

“…and…he wants to get out. Any way possible.”

The hope was that Gladio would be able to pick up on what he was implying without saying it outright, but based on his arching eyebrow, he wasn’t.

Prompto inhaled deeply and took the plunge. “He asked _me_ to help him.”

“Noct asked _you_ to help him get kicked out of school?” Gladio said each word slowly and skeptically, and Prompto could only nod, hanging his head.

“Well, that’s kind of shitty of him,” Gladio commented after not speaking for several seconds.

Peering up, Prompto was surprised to see him still smiling. Something wasn’t adding up.

“That’s it?”

An eyeroll and a snort served as Gladio’s answer.

“Kid’s gotta learn to make his own decisions sometime, even if they’re bad ones.”

Considering how worried Prompto was about the entire situation, he found Gladio’s dismissiveness disturbing, but he wasn’t about to say so.

The senior must have read Prompto’s silence though, for he sighed, scanning him with what looked like sympathy.

“If you’re that concerned about it, I’ll talk to him.”

“Won’t Noctis be angry that I told you?” Prompto worried, hands now grasping his knees to keep his legs still. A fresh wave of guilt welled up inside of him at the thought of betraying Noctis’s confidence and he began to regret his decision to ask Gladio for help.

Gladio didn’t pull his punches. “Maybe, but he could get himself in a mess of trouble—and dragging you into it isn’t cool.”

With that, Prompto forced himself to look at Gladio again, surprised for the consideration the upperclassman made for his feelings. Now that they were talking face-to-face, he realized how warm and inviting he really was, no longer as intimidating as he first seemed.

“Thanks.” A strong feeling of gratitude prevented Prompto from saying anything else.

“No problem.”

Now that he had gotten the truth off his chest, Prompto was at a loss for what to talk about, but Gladio seemed content to just sit there, unbothered by his apparent discomfort.

“So, you come here often?” Gladio’s tone remained light-hearted and not at all forced. It almost seemed like he _wanted_ to talk to him, and it made Prompto nervous all over again. People only spoke to him if they needed something, not because they liked him.

“Yeah, no one really bothers me here.” After a beat, Prompto realized how that could be misinterpreted. “Not that _you’re_ bothering me.”

_Open mouth, insert foot._

Gladio replied with another hearty laugh, making Prompto smile shyly. Hopefully this meant that the upperclassman just might find him the tiny, teeniest bit likeable.

“I come here a lot too, to read.”

Prompto’s entire view of tan, muscular senior turned on its head with the casual confession, and it must have showed, because Gladio laughed louder.

“Is that really so surprising? I’m hurt.”

“No, of course not!” Prompto rushed to get out. “You’re just so… _so…”_

With a wiggle of his eyebrows, Gladio filled in the blank. “Charming? Handsome? Talented?”

Sheepishly, he answered: “I was thinking ‘beefy,’ to be honest.”

Their laughter filled the library in a crescendo, earning an aggressive _shush_ from someone, most likely Ms. Trepe. They struggled to control themselves, eventually devolving into snickers, gasping for breath.

“Well, I’ll have you know that this beef-cake reads. If you got the time, I’ll show you a few of my favorites,” Gladio offered.

Open, unassuming, friendly—it was hard for him not to like Gladio Amicitia.

For once, Prompto didn’t have to think as he wholeheartedly agreed.

“Sure, I’d love that.”

* * *

It wasn’t until after dinner that he got back to his room, the afternoon spent with Gladio passing by quicker than Prompto had realized.

They’d swapped book recommendations, which had led to an in-depth discussion of their favorites, and of course, a heated debate on which movie adaptations were the worst.

_You can’t just turn books into movies, okay?_

Gladio, to Prompto’s surprise, had agreed with him on more than one occasion.

“You’re alright, Argentum,” he’d decided before they had parted for the night.

Prompto felt like he was practically glowing when he walked through the door, still reflecting on his time with Gladio, and was surprised to find his roommate still lounging in his pajamas.

“Where have you been?” Noctis asked. He was curt—suspicious. 

He tried to act casual as he remembered his initial reason for meeting up with Gladio, guilt seizing him all over again.

“I, uh, was hanging out with Gladio.”

 _That was friends did, right? Were he and Gladio friends now? He_ had _given Prompto his phone number, so there was that._

“ _You_? And Gladio?”

Nothing could prepare him for animosity in Noctis’s reply, bordering on accusatory.

It made him feel awful—and angry. Defensively, he retorted: “What? Did I need to ask your permission first, Your _Highness_?”

He knew it was uncalled for, but a dam had broken, some of the pent-up emotion bursting through. Irritation evident, Noctis flopped back on his bed, pulling his phone in front of his face.

“Nope. I don’t care what you do.”

Prompto wanted to say something—make a smart-ass comment, tell the prince how he really felt—but the retort successfully stifled anything he could think of.

_I don’t care what you do._

What he heard was: _I don’t care about_ you.

Wordlessly, Prompto turned and headed straight out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will start to see more major plot changes compared to _Insomnian Academy for the Elite_ going forward. In the original, Prompto asks Ignis for help, not Gladio, but with the way everything was moving it made more sense for him to go to Gladio and bring Ignis in later.


	5. Meeting Halfway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mid-term meetings are underway, and Prompto realizes it is time to put his plan to help Noctis into action, but he'll need a little help from his friends.

Prompto avoided Noctis as much as possible for the remainder of the weekend, and without the prince’s company, time slowed to a standstill, making him relieved when Monday finally arrived.

Everyone dreaded mid-term parent meetings, Prompto included, and he was ready to get them over with before they’d even began.

The academy treated the meetings like they did everything—with grandiose flair. In Prompto’s mind, it served as a glaring reminder of the status of the academy’s students and their families, or rather, his lack of it. No expense was spared, a catered breakfast provided in the auditorium and library for those waiting to meet with their teachers, and everyone dressed in their best finery. Prompto threw on his one and only suit for the occasion.

By the time he left his room, Noctis still sleeping soundly, the halls were already bustling with people, students with their parents and family members everywhere he looked. He found himself weaving in and out of the crowd, hoping to at least get some food before his father arrived. There was no way he’d get through the day on an empty stomach.

Entering the library, Prompto kept his head down as he jumped in line. While in the middle of piling fruit onto his plate, his eyes fell on a familiar face on the other side of the room—Gladio, dressed to kill in a fitted charcoal gray suit and crimson bow tie. Prompto’s hand seemed to forget what it was doing, hanging in midair, and the senior chose that moment to turn, their eyes connecting from across the room.

The upperclassman beamed and was already making his way over, and Prompto froze, not sure how he was expected to react.

There were a lot of people around. There was no way that Gladio would—

“Hey, Prompto.”

The shift from the use of ‘Argentum’ to his first name was so jarring that Prompto dropped the spoon in his hand. Without flinching, Gladio caught it, returning it carefully to the bowl of fruit on the table.

“H-hi!” Prompto squeaked, voice raising on octave.

_Is this happening right now?_

“Your dad coming today?”

It was meant to be conversational, but the last thing Prompto wanted to talk to Gladio about was Verstael.

“Yep. Yours?” Grabbing his plate of food, he walked towards a table, Gladio at his hip.

“Yeah, although he’ll be busy escorting Noct’s dad.”

_Noct’s dad, aka the king._

Suddenly, Prompto wasn’t very hungry, but he shoved a strawberry into his mouth anyway, giving himself time to think. He wondered if Gladio had already mentioned what they’d spoken about to Noctis.

Snagging a piece of melon off the blond’s plate, Gladio pulled up a chair next to him and sat down.

“Hey, hanging out the other day was nice. I wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime.”

Prompto was glad that he had already swallowed what was in his mouth, otherwise he might have choked.

“Sure!” he tried to sound enthusiastic—and he _was_ —enthusiastically terrified of what Noctis might think if he found out. He hadn’t seemed too pleased about their strange friendship, although Prompto wasn’t sure why.

A chime rang out over the school’s intercom then, an announcement saving him from having to continue the conversation.

“Members of the Insomnian Academy, we will now commence Mid-Term Reviews. Honored guests, please refer to the schedule posted outside of the auditorium for your meeting place and time. Student advisors will be available in the event you have any questions. Thank you for your attention.”

“Well, um, it was nice seeing you, but I gotta go,” Prompto spoke in a rush, using the announcement as an excuse to leave.

As he walked out, Prompto felt his phone buzz. It was a text from his father.

Verstael  
  
I'm here. Where should we meet?  
  
My first appointment is at 8:30 in the main office, meet you there.  
  


When Prompto walked into the office, his father was already waiting for him inside the door. Ms. Lulu, the receptionist, lifted her head and waved them towards the inner hallway.

“Mrs. Leonhart is expecting you,” she explained.

Not bothering to greet Prompto, Verstael disappeared through the doorway, his son a few steps behind.

Mrs. Leonhart was sitting inside one of the small meeting rooms, wearing a conservative black pantsuit, her dark hair pulled back to better frame her face. Verstael and Prompto entered, taking their seats without speaking.

_This should be fun._

It was Verstael’s second meeting with Prompto’s advisor, and he hoped it went better than the first time.

“Mr. Argentum—”

“Besithia,” his father interrupted. “Leonhart, if I recall? Wife of Squall Leonhart?”

Verstael’s lips pressed into what could have been a smile or a scowl. Oftentimes, it was hard to tell, but it was usually the latter.

“As I’ve said, please call me Rinoa, Mr. Besithia.” Her smile was equally thin, and Prompto felt himself withering as he tried to remain upright in his chair. “As I was about to say, Mr. Argentum has done well this term. His art has grown by leaps and bounds. I’ve found he has a great eye for small details, and Mr. Muir agrees. He’s pleasant to work with, receptive to feedback, and works hard. I’m sure you must be very proud of him.”

Verstael sat back, emitting an aura of disdain. There were very few people who were brave enough to speak to him so directly, but Mrs. Leonhart wasn’t like most other teachers. It was one of the reasons Prompto liked her so much, but he couldn’t say the same for his father.

“Proud of him?” he repeated the words like he had bitten into something rancid. “Mrs. Leonhart, would you care to explain to me how being skilled in photography and music will make my son more successful?” The man’s tone was dangerously sharp, and Prompto shifted in his seat, eyes on the ground as he pretended he was invisible.

“Sir, I mean no offense, but Mr. Argentum is very talented, and his talents should be celebrated, regardless of how ‘useful’ they might seem to some.”

She seemed surprised when Verstael stood abruptly, causing Prompto’s head to jerk up. That was _definitely_ a scowl on his face.

“I don’t _pay_ for him to do arts and crafts, Mrs. Leonhart, I pay for him to have a chance of making something of himself. Now, if you’re done wasting my time, I’ll take my leave.”

Prompto felt like the ground was falling out from under him. He barely registered his father’s exit, head tucking down beneath his knees. He didn’t expect the meeting to go well, but he hadn’t expected it to be a total disaster. The thirty-minute session had ended in less than three—a new record.

Mrs. Leonhart was silent long after Verstael had gone, and Prompto was too ashamed to even apologize.

“Prompto, I’m sorry if I—”

“It’s okay, Mrs. L,” Prompto assured her, getting up quickly.

Mrs. Leonhart’s words had opened another floodgate, and he _really_ didn’t want to cry in front of her, so he hurried out of the office and went straight into the hall, not bothering to look for his father. As far as Prompto was concerned, Verstael could have left for the day and it wouldn’t have made any difference.

Why did he think things would ever change? Prompto was clearly only ever meant to be a pawn, whether it be for his father, Prince Noctis, or somebody else.

If he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his feelings the student might have noticed the large crowd that had gathered on the opposite end of the corridor, but he was too distracted by his thoughts as he rounded the corner, coming face-to-face with an older man at a speed that made crashing into him inevitable.

Prompto let loose a yell as he collided into a body that was firmer than it looked upon first glance, and there was a flurry of activity as people rushed in from all sides, most of them shouting.

Ears ringing, Prompto wasn’t able to tell if the angry voices were directed at him, but he figured it was safe to assume so. Still wincing from the impact, he looked up through blurred vision to see who it was that he had managed to piss off.

_Please don’t let it be one of Ravus’s relatives._

It was safe to say that it wasn’t, seeing as there was no mistaking the man who was slowly getting to his feet with the help of two others.

His Royal Majesty, King Regis of Lucis.

As the other two men grew clearer, Prompto realized he recognized them too. Clarus Amicitia, the King’s Shield, and Cor “the Immortal” Leonis, the Marshal of the Crownsguard.

 _Fuck_.

He was relieved to see that the king didn’t seem to have been seriously hurt because it probably would have meant the end of—well, everything.

“Watch where you’re going, kid,” the Marshal barked as Prompto slowly got up.

His backside throbbing, the student glanced from Mr. Leonis over to Mr. Amicitia, who was studying him with a critical gaze. He wondered if Gladio and his father shared any personality traits, because they sure didn’t share many physical ones.

“It was merely an accident,” the king murmured.

Prompto saw then that he was holding a cane in his right hand, and it made him feel even worse.

Clarus Amicitia was glaring at him pointedly now, reminding the student of what he was forgetting.

“S-sorry, Your Majesty. He added a bow for good measure, and King Regis smiled, the tension dissipating instantly.

 _Noctis has his father’s smile_.

Prompto smiled, too, a flush lightly coloring his cheeks.

“No harm was meant,” the king said with conviction. With a single wave of his hand, everyone in the immediate vicinity relaxed and continued about their business.

_Whoa._

It was then that Prompto’s brain chose to remember that this was _Noctis’s_ father, the man he had been helping the prince scheme against.

 _Am I committing treason somehow?_ His stomach lurched at the thought.

“Prompto?”

An indignant voice came from over his shoulder, and he craned his head around to look for its source. Prince Noctis was heading directly towards them, eyeing them all dubiously.

“Prompto Argentum? Ah, so this is your roommate, Verstael Besithia’s son?”

 _Holy shit, King Regis knows my name_.

Under better circumstances he might have felt honored, but the knowledge was like putting the last nail in a coffin. There was no way the plan to have Noctis pulled out of school would end well.

Prince Noctis gave Prompto a look that told him to keep his mouth shut, and he heartily obeyed.

“Yeah, it is. I thought you weren’t coming until later, dad.”

“I thought we might catch up before your first appointment. That is, if you’re not too busy.”

King Regis smiled like he had just told an inside joke, and Noctis frowned, arms folding over his chest. Everyone was now looking at the prince expectantly.

“Sure, whatever.”

It was mind-boggling to Prompto that Noctis could talk to his dad so nonchalantly and not be reprimanded. If he had spoken to Verstael in the same way, he’d be grounded for life.

Although he didn’t verbally express it, the prince’s reluctance was made known by the way he dragged his feet, taking his time before joining his father at his side.

“A pleasure meeting you, Prompto,” King Regis bade with a polite nod.

“You too.”

It was probably not the best response he could have given, but the monarch didn’t seem to mind, leaving Prompto to watch as he and Noctis meandered down the hall and out of sight with a large retinue of attendants.

Trying to process the fact that he had run into the king (literally), Prompto went off in the opposite direction, finding himself heading towards the courtyard. He had time to kill since his next appointment wasn’t for another hour, and it was a sunny day outside so he figured he might as well enjoy it while he waited.

There was an empty stone bench beneath one of the trees, and Prompto sat, letting his gaze drift up to its emerald leaves. Flowers were starting to bud everywhere he looked, a sign that spring was on its way.

A gentle inquiry cut through the chatter of a group standing close by.

“Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

Prompto’s head snapped forward as he straightened in his seat. Ignis Scientia, wearing a classy black suit and navy vest smiled at him in greeting from where he stood several feet away.

 _How does he always sneak up on me?_ Prompto wondered.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Prompto’s thoughts were everywhere, and the last thing he wanted to do was exchange pleasantries, but he knew he still had to play the game just like everybody else.

“May I?”

Ignis was motioning to the space beside him on the bench, and Prompto immediately scooted over to allow the senior to sit.

“Gladio informed me of your conversation regarding His Highness.”

It was like Ignis had just dumped a bucket of ice water on Prompto’s head—he wasn’t sure he could take much more of this.

Lowering his voice, Prompto knew that now was the appropriate time to beg for mercy.

“I’m sorry—I really didn’t know what to do, and it was stupid of me to ever agree to help him get kicked out, but my dad…he, well, you probably already know, but he relies on donors for his research and he _really_ wants an audience with King Regis, so he wanted me to make friends with Noctis and then...” Realizing he was rambling, Prompto bit down on his lip, tears blurring his vision.

Ignis looked out across the courtyard contemplatively, and Prompto felt his heart racing, afraid of what his response would be.

“His Highness can be very demanding.” The class president’s tone was gentle, the kindness harder for Prompto to handle than if he had just yelled at him. “I cannot blame you for bending to Noctis’s will. As his future advisor, I must admit that I have given in to him more times than I can count.”

Furiously wiping away a tear that escaped, Prompto nodded once, allowing the information that Ignis was advisor to the future king to sink in.

_I’ve really fucked everything up._

“He would have tried with or without you, you know,” Ignis stated, politely avoiding looking directly at Prompto in light of the student’s emotional distress. “Most likely, you prevented him from making a foolish decision. For that, you have our thanks.”

Prompto wanted to run. He wanted to scream— _I don’t deserve your thanks_. _I don’t deserve anything from anyone._

But he said nothing, inhaling slowly to avoid bursting into tears.

“You needn’t worry about the situation. Gladio and I will handle it,” Ignis reassured him. The upperclassman then smoothly switched to a more comfortable subject. “Who is your next meeting with?”

“Miss G,” Prompto answered, then sullenly added, “But who knows if my father will show up after my last one.”

“Oh?”

Ignis adjusted his glasses, head turning towards Prompto. He had a face that made you want to tell him everything, and Prompto badly needed someone to vent to.

“Yeah, he’s never liked that I study photography and music, and he kinda blew up on Mrs. Leonhart. I don’t think I’ll be playing guitar for much longer, so Yuna will have to find someone else for to play for her spring solo.”

“Ah, you play guitar? I studied piano when I was younger. My mother loved to play,” Ignis commented.

“Oh, yeah?” Prompto felt his spirits lift somewhat as they traveled into familiar territory. “That’s cool. Is your mom going to be here today?”

Ignis paused, a flicker of confusion creasing between his eyes. “Unfortunately, no. My uncle is my primary guardian.” It was an awkward admission, and based on the withholding of information, Prompto could assume that he had overstepped somehow.

“Oh—I’m sorry.” The conversation fizzled, Prompto mentally kicking himself. He could never say the right thing—which was why he figured it was better for him not to speak at all.

After a few minutes of silence, Ignis cleared his throat. “Best of luck today. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Y-yeah, yep. Have a nice day.”

Prompto’s words hit Ignis’s back as he turned away, and his eyes traced the senior all the way across the courtyard to where he disappeared back into the school building.

With a heavy sigh, Prompto got up, deciding that he might as well head up to the third floor where Miss Gainsborough’s office could be found to wait.

He was still early when he got there, so he loitered in the hallway. Not surprisingly, his father was nowhere to be found.

When Miss G’s door finally opened some twenty-odd minutes later, Prompto was shocked to see the king walk out, followed by his entourage and, of course, Prince Noctis. It made sense since he and the prince were in the same class that they also would have a meeting with Miss Gainsborough, but Prompto wasn’t emotionally ready to see his roommate so soon after the run-in with the king.

Prompto’s gaze briefly met Noctis’s as he walked out, but like two children hiding behind their parents’ legs, they immediately turned their heads away and pretended not to see one another. No one else spared Prompto a second glance, except for Miss G who now stood in the doorway to her office, surveying her student.

“Mr. Argentum, please come in.”

Prompto hurried to do so, desperate to put as much distance as possible between him and Noctis.

When Miss G shut the door, Prompto was met by the smell of flowers, a large vase sitting on the corner of her desk containing an assortment of blooms colored in shades of white, yellow, and pink. Light streamed in through the window behind her, tinting the room a golden hue. As sank down into one of the worn-out leather chairs in front of her desk, Prompto found himself thinking that it would make a nice picture.

His favorite teacher opened a thick notebook with bookmarked pages and sticky notes poking out of it that she had in front of her, flipping to a page that had Prompto’s name written across the top in her neat handwriting. Prompto could see a few bullet points beneath it, but the words were too small for him to make out.

“I see that your father is unable to join us today,” Miss Gainsborough said lightly. Something in Prompto’s chest tightened and he folded his hands in his lap, trying to remain calm. “You’re doing very well in my class, although I have to admit, I’m worried about you.”

Perplexed, Prompto looked at her, but she held a hand up to keep him from speaking. “You may not be royalty, but you have earned your place here, Prompto. If anyone is giving you trouble—anyone at all, you know you can talk to me about it.”

She was so kind—selfless, really. And Prompto knew for that reason that he absolutely could not get her involved.

“That’s really nice of you, but I’m great, Miss G. Better than great.” He slipped on a grin, pointing finger guns at her for good measure.

_Fake it ‘til you make it._

His teacher sighed heavily, shaking her head.

“If you say so…just know that if that ever changes, I’m here for you.” Prompto made a show of nodding emphatically. “On an unrelated note, I can see that you’re having a positive impact on Prince Noctis. I think it’s great that you’re making friends.”

Prompto nearly laughed.

 _Oh, if only you knew_.

“Yeah, me too,” he lied.

“Well, if you don’t have any questions for me, I don’t have any other feedback. I will make sure to let your father know you are doing well in my class,” she promised, Prompto already rising hastily.

“Thank you, Miss G,” Prompto said graciously.

He really did mean it.

As soon as he was alone, Prompto leaned against the wall, the heaviness of the morning finally catching up to him. He closed his eyes, wishing that he could walk out the academy and never look back.

Graduation had never seemed so far away.

He was walking past the staircase to Headmaster Izunia’s office a few minutes later when he caught Verstael on his way down. Prompto stopped automatically, and Verstael mirrored him, glaring down at his son with all the disdain he could muster.

There was a numbness inside of Prompto as he held his father’s gaze.

“My mind is made up,” Verstael declared. “If you do not secure an audience with His Majesty by the end of the semester, I will remove you from this school.” He didn’t elaborate on what would happen to Prompto after that, but he could guess.

His life would become a living hell.

“I’m working on it,” Prompto answered tiredly.

He didn’t know what he was doing anymore, but he needed to buy himself some more time to figure it out.

With a curt nod, Verstael pushed past him, leaving no further room for discussion.

He waited for his father’s footsteps to fade before letting out a gasping sob. Prompto almost didn’t answer when his phone vibrated, but saw that it was Gladio’s name that had flashed across the screen and clicked on the message.

Gladio Amicitia  
  
Meet me in the library  
  


Clinging to whatever sliver of hope he had left, Prompto shoved his phone back in his pocket, took a deep breath, and headed towards the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original story, Yuna was much more of a focus as a major character. She was the one that Prompto ran into in the courtyard (not Ignis), but with the new direction I decided to take things she is taking more of a supportive roll. She'll still be important to the story, but in a different way.


	6. The ‘Plan’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets Ignis and Gladio on board with his plan, and together they break the news to Noctis.
> 
> Later, Noctis makes an observation that Prompto doesn't want to hear when it comes to Yuna.

The library was busier than when they had last met, students and their family members moving in and out on their way to and from meetings, so when Prompto finally found Gladio at a table, he didn’t immediately register that someone else was with him.

He slowed when he saw that it was Ignis, thinking that this was an ambush of some kind.

_That’s it. I’m done for. This is when they tell me how much they hate me._

“Hey Prompto,” Gladio greeted. His friendliness was off-putting, Prompto fully expecting his tone to switch at a moment’s notice, and he stalled, not yet taking a seat.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” he was shooting for casual—relaxed—even though he was neither of those things.

“We’d like to hear your plan for having Noctis kicked out of the academy,” Ignis said, fingers lacing as he set his hands in front of him. He looked like the CEO of a company asking for someone to pitch a project.

Prompto felt like he should be pulling out notes, or at least have some slides to show them, _something_ to prove he was prepared to talk about this.

 _This is one hundred percent a trap_. 

Shoulders sagging, Prompto reluctantly pulled up a chair. He had no excuse not to.

“Okay…” he looked between Ignis and Gladio, licking his lips. “…so, I was thinking—most people figure that doing everything wrong is the fastest way to piss off their parents, but His Majesty might be a little different.”

Prompto focused on Gladio the longer he spoke, unable to withstand the intensity of Ignis’s calculating gaze.

“For me, I know my dad just threatens me the more if I mess up, but he loses his mind if I do something I actually enjoy—like music and photography.” With his most recent conversation still fresh in his mind, he was even more convinced that he was right. “So…if Noctis starts to enjoy himself _too_ much and focus on things that maybe his dad finds to be a waste of time, maybe he’d consider pulling him out of the academy himself.”

“Make it His Majesty’s idea, and not Noctis’s,” Ignis mused, a hand coming up to frame his chin. “Honestly, it’s…”

“Stupid, I know,” Prompto blurted.

“Brilliant, actually.”

“Wait, really?” he demanded in disbelief.

Gladio hummed his agreement. “The hardest part will be making Noctis actually enjoy something enough to get in trouble with Regis.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Ignis chuckled. “We will need to meet and discuss our potential options. Tonight, perhaps?”

“That’s good with me—”

“ _Wait_ ,” Prompto interrupted loudly. 

Ignis and Gladio wore the same lofty expressions, turning to Prompto in unison.

“You’re _okay_ with this?” It went directly against everything Prompto had expected (rightfully, or so he thought). Why would the prince’s retainers want him to be successful in getting taken out of the academy? Had he missed something?

None of it made sense.

“Noct will do something way worse if we don’t help him,” Gladio laughed, and it was accompanied by a solemn nod from Ignis.

“You came to us at the right time. Of course, you will be rewarded for your honesty—”

“No.”

It came out harsher than it had sounded in Prompto’s mind, and both Ignis and Gladio cocked an eyebrow, surprised.

“No,” he repeated, a little softer. “Please, I—it was my fault to begin with. I don’t deserve anything,” he continued. “Pretty sure Noctis won’t want anything to do with me after this anyway, so…”

The two seniors exchanged a sidelong look, quieting.

“Very well,” Ignis said carefully. “Then let’s meet at my apartment this evening to discuss our strategy. I will send you the address.”

It took a few seconds for Prompto to realize he was talking to him too, not just Gladio. Honestly, he was still processing everything. A lot had occurred in a very short window of time. He didn’t think he had anything to offer, other than the occasional awkward comment here and there. Hardly helpful.

“…Are you sure?”

“Certainly. After all, you’re the mastermind behind this operation.”

“Definitely,” Gladio confirmed, hands now clasped behind his head in a relaxed pose.

Prompto’s mind was rapidly running through worst case scenarios, still not entirely convinced that all of it wasn’t an elaborate set up, but there was a part of him that wanted desperately to believe that they actually thought highly of him—that they _wanted_ to be his friends.

It was too tantalizing to resist. Prompto caved.

“Alright, what time?”

Gladio was quick to offer his assistance. “Around seven? You can ride with me.”

* * *

No students were allowed to have cars on the academy’s campus, but most of them were rich enough that they didn’t need to. Gladio, predictably, was able to make a phone call for a chauffer to come pick them up, no questions asked.

Prompto waited awkwardly on the steps with Gladio for their ride, making small talk when appropriate, but for the most part not speaking.

His nerves had been on edge ever since their meeting in the library, and he had opted to skip the rest of the meetings with his teachers. With his father absent, he wasn’t required to go anyway.

The car ride was uneventful, Prompto avoiding conversation by scrolling through social media on his phone, and they arrived at Ignis’s apartment building just as the sun slipped below the horizon. The apartment complex was relatively close to the Citadel, the heart and soul of Insomnia, and its white stone construction looked relatively new. As he took in the immaculate outside and modern details, he tried not to think about how expensive rent was per month, but then again, Ignis probably didn’t have to pay for it himself.

Gladio pressed the button on the intercom outside the gate, Ignis’s voice coming through after a short delay. 

“Come in.”

With a buzz, the gate unlatched, and the two entered the main lobby of the building before heading for the nearest elevator. The floors gleamed with fresh polish, an intricate tile pattern that was dizzying if you looked at it for too long. The elevator they took was made of thick, spotless glass and ascended from the side of the building. As the compartment rose, they were able to see Insomnia’s cityscape expand with perfect clarity, the shimmering skyline rivaling the gleam of the stars above.

When they reached Ignis’s floor, Gladio walked with confidence up to the door, rapping his knuckles against it.

He answered almost immediately, and was wearing a long white apron over his slacks and a white button-down. It looked like he must have been too busy to change once he got home. Adjusting his glasses like Ignis often did, he held the door open and ushered them inside.

“Welcome. If you would remove your shoes there,” he instructed, motioning to a small shoe rack next to the door where Gladio was already placing his boots.

“Smells good in here, Specs,” Gladio said as he turned to go into the kitchen.

Prompto’s stomach growled as he inhaled the mouthwatering aroma of food cooking.

“I just finished preparing dinner. I figured we could eat while we came up with a plan of attack.”

“I like how you think,” Gladio replied, already in the process of scooping what was inside a crockpot on the counter into a bowl.

“Help yourself, Prompto,” Ignis urged.

“Oh—thank you.” Prompto bobbed his head gratefully, joining Gladio in the kitchen.

Normally he would refuse the offer just to be polite, but he was lightheaded from not eating since breakfast, and the smell was too good to turn down.

Once everyone had poured themselves a hefty portion of stew, they gravitated into the living room beyond the kitchen.

Gladio sprawled across a low white couch, feet propped on one armrest and hands behind his head. A coffee table beside him pinpointed the middle of the room and had another couch and armchair opposite it. Through a sliding glass door on the far wall, Prompto spied windows overlooking a terrace with an amazing view of the city below. He stared, admiring Insomnia's beauty before moving to the other couch. Ignis sat in the armchair, untying his apron before laying it across the arm.

Prompto was taking the first, delicious bite of stew when the front door swung open and Prince Noctis entered unannounced.

"Hey," he greeted as Prompto swallowed. 

He joined Prompto on the opposite side of the couch, leaving a gap between them. Their eyes met, but to Prompto’s relief, he seemed unsurprised to see him. Ignis must have told the prince that he was coming.

Noctis cut straight to the chase.

“So, what’s this plan I’ve been told about?” 

He had changed into casual clothes, jeans and a black t-shirt with a subtle skull print. Prompto felt that it suited him better than the stuffy school uniform they were required to wear. 

Feeling eyes on him, Prompto held his bowl with both hands, using it as a focal point. It was warm, and it soothed his jittery nerves, settling them to a manageable level. He looked at Ignis, who nodded encouragingly, signaling that Prompto should begin. Taking a deep breath, he glanced between all three members of his audience before repeating what he had told Ignis and Gladio earlier.

When Prompto had finished, they all watched Noctis for his reaction.

“Your plan is… for me to have _too_ much fun? Is that right?” He looked from Ignis to Gladio as if to confirm they were truly on board with this peculiar plan.

“I doubt Regis would be thrilled if you were going to parties, or dating people other than Luna,” Gladio chuckled, looking a little too pleased by the idea.

Prince Noctis blinked slowly, once, then twice, before running a hand through his hair.

“…sure. I mean, that’s true, I guess.”

“Gods, I never thought I’d see the day that we’d have to turn Noct into a playboy. Have you even _spoken_ to a girl before?” the future Shield cackled.

Prompto was surprised to see Noctis flush, but Ignis was quick to reel everyone back in, clearing his throat to refocus their attention.

“We will need to be careful in how we go about it, of course.”

“Sure, something lowkey to get things rolling—maybe a party,” Gladio suggested. “I can handle that.” He cracked his knuckles, stretching arms overhead. “Some of us have been at it for a while.”

Ignis’s eyes cut over so fast that Prompto nearly jumped out of the way.

“Yes, I am perfectly aware,” he retorted, the comment biting.

Prompto squirmed uncomfortably as the two upperclassmen locked eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing out on a vital piece of information. Noctis sprawled back on the couch with a wry smile, unfazed by the exchange between his friends. 

It was probably better not to know.

“Very well,” Ignis eventually huffed. “But it will need to be here in the city, not on campus. Rumors alone should suffice—he won’t have to be ‘caught in the act,’ so-to-speak. So long as it eventually gets back to His Majesty what his son is up to, we needn’t go overboard,” he theorized.

“That means we’re going to have to invite someone who would say something,” Gladio pointed out as he folded his arms.

The obvious answer was Ravus, of course, but there was no way Prompto was going to be the one to suggest it.

Leave it to Ignis to provide a suitable alternative. “Lady Lunafreya?”

Noctis shot the suggestion down right away, partly rising off the couch in alarm. “No way!”

Gladio looked sympathetic, but ultimately sided with Ignis. “It makes the most sense. Then Ravus would probably hear about it without him having to be there—and we all know he’ll have something to say about it.”

With the odds against him, Noctis settled back in the couch uneasily.

“Noctis, this will require you to be charming and personable—do you think you can manage that?”

Noctis made a flippant gesture in Ignis’s direction, which was met with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry,” Gladio teased. “That’s what he has Prompto for.”

Until his name was brought up, Prompto had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be a part of this plan, but he paled at serving as the ‘wingman’ to the crown prince.

_Do they know me?_

He had no game whatsoever—zero, zilch, _nada_. He’d never even been on a real date. They couldn’t expect him to be of any use, and yet…

Ignis’s side-eye in Gladio’s direction was enough for him to stop talking, although he looked like he was itching to elaborate.

Noctis, on the other hand, was looking at Prompto, waiting for confirmation. It was the moment of truth.

“I’ll do my best,” Prompto reluctantly agreed.

“Well then, that settles it,” Ignis announced. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Prompto wasn’t prepared for the whirlwind of activity that would make up the weeks to come.

Whether it was in-class or outside of it, every free moment revolved around Noctis, Ignis, or Gladio, usually a combination of the three. They ate together, did classwork together, and in the evenings, they hung out, discussing different ways they could boost Noctis’s social reputation, but mostly just doing what teenagers did.

He learned a lot about them during that time.

Like that Ignis loved to cook—and was good at it—especially baking. He said it was his ideal way to relax after a stressful day.

Noctis’s favorite video game of all time was _Assassin’s Creed_ , and he owned the largest collection of memorabilia in all of Insomnia (although his dad forbade him from bringing it to the academy with him).

Gladio was skilled in multiple styles of hand-to-hand combat and was the second youngest to officially join the Crownsguard (right after the Marshal, Cor Leonis).

They were an unlikely group, each with their own personalities, likes and dislikes, but the more time Prompto spent with them, the more he started to feel like he could be himself, relaxing enough to crack jokes and laughing more naturally.

He also noticed that he got bullied less and less, the old adage of ‘safety in numbers’ holding true. It was the major bonus to the bizarre conditions that had brought them together, even if it was only temporary.

Seeing the three boys got to be such routine that Prompto started to wonder what he’d spent his time doing before he’d met them.

He was busy finishing up some editing for his photography project in Mrs. Leonhart’s room after putting it off for far too long, one of the few nights he had been alone since his plan had been put into motion, when the door to the room creaked on its hinges. Engrossed in his editing process, he didn’t register the sound.

“Hey.”

It was a soft greeting, meant to _not_ startle him, but Prompto flinched out of habit anyway. When he saw it was Noctis standing in the doorway though, his anxiety faded, a grin springing naturally onto his face. 

“Oh, hey Noct! What’s up?”

He wasn’t sure when he’d started calling him Noct, but it just _felt_ right, and now he couldn’t imagine calling him anything else.

The prince came to sit on the edge of Prompto’s desk, looking around the cubicle at the pictures he had posted on his bulletin board.

“Nothing, just bored and figured I’d see what you were up to.” He reached for a picture of a group of girls sitting on the academy steps, the sun’s angle make it appear like they had halos around their heads. “Did you take all of these?”

“Yep, sure did. They’re not very good, but Mrs. Leonhart thinks I might be able to earn a scholarship, so…”

Prompto watched Noctis expect each picture with a singular focus before it landed on him, and his heart skipped; noticing that the prince’s gray eyes were almost blue today.

“It’s better than anything I could ever do,” Noctis claimed with an underlying appreciation.

“Pfft, I doubt it. I mean, you do lots of cool things.”

“Oh yeah?” It was a challenge, a tiny smirk curling his lips. “Like what?”

Prompto was instantly flustered with having to think of something on the spot, but he pressed stubbornly onward. “You know, like warp, and you can use swords and stuff, and…” he thought a little harder. “You can sleep more than anyone I know.”

“That’s not really a talent,” Noctis laughed.

Prompto lifted a finger. “Still impressive, dude. I can’t sleep even when I want to.”

The atmosphere in the small space was cozy with him there, and Prompto never would have imagined he would be on a first-name basis with the Prince of Lucis, let alone friends with him. It gave him hope for a future—one away from Verstael where he could what he wanted.

 _Someday_.

“So, Gladio set a date for the party—it’s this Friday.” The news derailed Prompto’s thoughts.

_After that, Noctis won’t need me anymore._

Feigning happiness, Prompto smiled. “That’s great. Soon you’ll be out of here,” he replied. He imagined it was what Noctis wanted to hear, but the prince didn’t look all that excited. Prompto hesitated, then asked: “…isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yeah.” Noctis drummed his fingers on Prompto’s desk, eyebrows furrowed. “…it’s just that—”

The door to the studio creaked open once more, and Noctis stopped abruptly, tensing. Footsteps grew louder until a girl poked her head into view—it was Yuna.

“Oh, Prompto! I was hoping I would find you here!”

If Noctis was miffed by not being addressed first, he didn’t show it.

Prompto would have managed an acceptable response if it wasn’t for Noctis arching an eyebrow at him out of the corner of his eye.

 _Who is this girl to you?_ it seemed to say. Although, he could have been reading too much into it. 

“O-oh, h-hey!” Prompto squeaked.

“I was wondering if you had a chance to look at the music I gave to Mr. Muir.” She sounded hopeful, gazing up at him from beneath long eyelashes. It was the first time he had noticed that she had one blue eye, and one green. 

Noctis folded his arms, body turned towards Prompto, and he had to fight to keep his eyes on Yuna.

“I did, actually. It’s great.”

“Ah!” Yuna clapped her hands, genuinely pleased. “Then…do you think we might be able to practice together? Maybe this Friday—”

“He’s busy.”

The interjection was so out of character for Noctis that Prompto frowned, looking over at the prince curiously.

“Oh, forgive me—”

“No, it’s okay,” Prompto insisted, unsure what had caused the outburst. “There’s a party we’re going to. Um, maybe you could come?”

The cold silence from Noctis made Prompto internally cringe, but it was too late to take back the invitation.

“I would hate to intrude…” she began, looking to Noctis apologetically. Even she had noticed that the prince wasn’t pleased, and the second-hand embarrassment Prompto experienced from it made him cringe outwardly this time. 

“It’s fine.” Noctis shrugged, body language and words at odds with his tone. “Come if you want.”

Yuna nodded. “Then, I would love to. Send me the details?” And with that, she slipped a piece of folded paper onto Prompto’s desk, giving a wave before excusing herself.

Prompto waited until the door was safely shut to question his roommate.

“What was that about?” he demanded. He really wanted to say: _what the fuck, dude?_

Noctis verbally dug his heels in. “You can’t just invite anyone to this party. We have a plan.” 

Prompto gaped, wondering where this resentment was springing from. _What did I do to piss him off?_

“Well, it’s just Yuna. She’s always been nice to me. Besides, Gladio said I could invite anyone I wanted.”

 _That_ caught Noctis’s attention, and Prompto knew he shouldn’t have said anything by the way the prince recoiled.

Noctis was a storm on the verge of raging; Prompto could feel it in the air.

“Right. Well, she’s definitely into you, man.”

It was spoken off-hand, and he imagined it was only meant to hurt him, but Prompto didn’t know what it had to do with anything—plus, he seriously doubted it.

He'd notice if it were true...wouldn't he? And if that was the case, the prince’s observation should have made him happy, excited— _something_ —but all it did was fill him with dread.

_Am I broken?_

His tongue was moving through quicksand, clumsy and weak.

“That’s—I don’t care about that.”

 _That_ being girls, dating, and any other romantic relationships.

Because that would require someone to love him for him and not for what Prompto could do for them.

And there wasn’t any chance of that.

Noctis shook his head. “Obviously.”

_Obviously?_

Noctis looked past Prompto then, wearing an expression that showed that his mind was far away, and Prompto rubbed the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling making him shift in his chair.

“…weren’t you going to tell me something?” he remembered.

“Forget it,” Noctis said before walking out of the cubicle. Then, he called back to him: “It’s all part of the plan, right—have fun?”

The question lingered long after he had left, Prompto having to spend more time than necessary considering whether he understood how helping Noctis could have consequences that he wasn’t prepared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original story, Prompto goes to Ignis for help and Ignis gets Gladio involved. Noctis is angry at Prompto at the time and has to be convinced by everyone to get on board with things.
> 
> Also, the scene with Yuna coming to Prompto's cubicle initially included Gladio coming to take Prompto out to karaoke with the bros and Gladio being the one to invite her along and also invite her to the party. 
> 
> Clearly, the story direction took a different route this time around.


	7. Intoxicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a warning from Headmaster Izunia, Prompto & Co. put his plan into action by throwing a party at Gladio's apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underage drinking included in this chapter.

“Ah, Mr. Argentum, please come in,” Headmaster Izunia beckoned.

It was a Friday, and the last thing Prompto wanted was to do was go to the headmaster’s office, but he faked a smile anyway and entered with his head held high. He found the man palming an orb of glowing light in his hand, feet propped up on the desk in an uncharacteristically relaxed pose, and when he stopped a few feet short of him, the headmaster closed his fist, making the shining ball vanish effortlessly.

Headmaster Izunia smiled in Prompto’s direction, but he wasn’t fooled. There had to be a reason he had called him out of class unexpectedly. The student’s instincts told him it couldn’t be for anything good.

“Please, take a seat,” he urged while he, ironically, got to his feet.

Prompto was too nervous to sit, and when the headmaster saw he had no intention of following the order, the man shrugged, turning to look out the large window, hands clasped behind his back.

“How are things faring with Prince Noctis?” Mr. Izunia asked. His tone was smooth—conversational even. It worried Prompto even more. “On all accounts, it appears you have been the perfect host.”

Something in Prompto’s gut told him to proceed carefully.

“I think so, sir.”

A pause was followed by an unfriendly smirk, like a rattlesnake’s warning. “Oh, yes, you should be commended, Mr. Argentum. In fact, I’m surprised just how well you’re getting on.”

His comment struck a chord—and it wasn’t a pleasant one. What was he implying?

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Prompto asked, barely hiding his frustration. He wished Headmaster Izunia would stop playing coy and tell him why he was there.

“But of _course_ , my dear boy! Like your father, I only want what is best for you. I would just hate for you to fall prey to any particularly nasty…royal appetites,” he said, unwavering.

_Royal appetites? Like what—pizza?_

Prompto opted for silence. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but inside his mind was racing through an obstacle course of confusion.

Had he somehow already found out about the party? It wasn’t supposed to be until later that evening, but a lot of students had been invited. It was possible he had overheard someone talking about it.

Headmaster Izunia took several languid steps, closing the distance between him and the student until they were only arms-length apart.

“I think you know _exactly_ what I mean, Mr. Argentum. After all, it seems to run in the family.” His murmured words felt very much like a threat, even though they were spoken amicably. Prompto could feel a bead of sweat drip down to the small of his back.

Nothing stirred in the room, the air thick with the headmaster’s implication. Prompto didn’t dare to breathe lest he drown in it.

Finally, after several moments of painful suspense, Headmaster Izunia took a step back, breaking the spell he had expertly crafted. Prompto felt dizzy from the void his energy had been sucked into.

“Take care of the company you keep, Mr. Argentum. You wouldn’t want to break your poor father’s heart, would you?”

Prompto was done playing games, his fight or flight response kicking in.

“Am I free to go now?” he demanded, nails digging into his palms to hide their trembling. His legs and arms were itching to bolt, muscles taut.

The headmaster’s lips pulled down at the corners, but Prompto forced himself to meet his eyes.

_I’ve done nothing wrong—yet._

“Certainly,” Mr. Izunia said stiffly. Prompto didn’t wait to be excused. He rushed out of the office without looking back, not caring if it made him look guilty.

 _He knows something, but he can’t prove it,_ Prompto surmised, heart beating louder than a bass drum.

He was walking a very fine line, and Prompto was afraid that he was poised to fall, but there was no way out now but forward.

* * *

The remainder of the day passed in a blur. By the time Prompto got back to his room, he had a headache pressing behind his eyes, the kind that made it difficult to think.

Noctis was ready and waiting for him when he walked in the door, dressed in his nicest pair of jeans and a leather jacket with a stylized behemoth on the back. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a magazine, and Prompto sighed inwardly.

The prince didn’t need him to look good. He really didn’t need him at all.

“Here, this is for you.”

Noctis held out a paper bag with a logo on the side that Prompto vaguely recognized. He’d seen it downtown somewhere before, near one of the big department stores that were too expensive for high schoolers to shop at.

 _Normal_ high schoolers, anyway.

“For…me?”

He accepted it with both hands, pulling out a black cut off shirt with a pattern of white crisscrossing lines and a pair of skinny jeans. Just by running his fingers over them Prompto could tell that they weren’t cheap.

“Is this…okay?” He wondered if it would be better to tell Noctis he couldn’t accept them. What was the protocol for a situation like this, anyway?

“If you’re going to be my wingman, I need you to look the part,” he said matter-of-factly.

_Oh. Right._

Turning his back to Noctis, Prompto began to change into them, surprised that the clothes fit him perfectly. When he looked in the mirror, he was even more surprised that he liked what he saw.

Noctis whistled playfully, eyeing Prompto up and down in a way that made his skin grow hot.

“Hey, Specs was right,” the prince said. “He told me what size to get you,” he then explained. “He’s good at stuff like that.”

Prompto hadn’t wondered initially, but it made sense. The pounding in his head had intensified, making it hard to know if the nausea he now felt was from nervousness or something he was coming down with, but it didn’t matter either way.

Tonight was the big night, and he couldn’t miss it, no matter what.

“Ready to go?”

He wasn’t ready, in fact—not mentally, and definitely not emotionally. Prompto had never been to a party before, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. Based on what he had gleaned from Noctis and Ignis, Gladio had a bit of a reputation for being a party animal, and for some reason Prompto could hear Headmaster Izunia’s voice in his head, saying: _“I would just hate for you to fall prey to any particularly nasty royal appetites.”_

 _Ugh_.

He shook his head to clear it, and immediately regretted it, bile rising in his throat.

“C’mon.”

Noctis grabbed Prompto by the wrist. The prince’s fingers were warm against his unusually cool skin, making him shiver.

“Right.”

He was forced to follow Noctis, pushing all remaining thoughts of the headmaster aside. After weeks of planning and preparation, it was _finally_ happening.

When they made it out of the academy, it felt like they were standing at a metaphorical crossroads. Prompto could have told Noctis no right then, told him that he had changed his mind. There was still time to back out.

But when the prince turned and offered Prompto one of his rare, true smiles, Prompto knew he’d follow him anywhere, even if it meant making an absolute fool of himself in front of the entire academy.

Which was highly likely.

A month ago, he hadn’t even had friends to call his own. Now, he was climbing into a car with the Prince of Lucis, heading to a party. Life truly was strange.

It was blessedly quiet in the car, and Prompto took the opportunity to close his eyes, willing his head to stop throbbing. He knew it was probably the only time he would have to be able to rest for the night.

He was right.

* * *

The music echoed in Prompto’s ears, skin vibrating with every bass drop.

He’d had a drink or two of something Gladio called One-Two Punch, apparently the senior’s own secret recipe that he had been perfecting since his freshman year. Now, Prompto’s head was swimming in a pleasant way, and he couldn’t tell when he walked if the room was spinning or if it was just his inability to move in a straight line.

Probably both.

The party had started as soon as the sun went down, and it hadn’t taken long from Gladio’s downtown loft apartment to fill wall-to-wall with people, most of whom Prompto didn’t recognize. It felt like most of the academy was there, but out of uniform they were just faces in a crowd.

Gladio welcomed every person who came through the door with a slap on the back before shoving a drink in their hand. He’d call each one by name like they were old friends, and just when Prompto thought they couldn’t fit any more people in the room, another group of people would walk in, proving him wrong.

It was clear to Prompto that he was way out of his depth. Everyone else seemed at ease, perching on furniture or mingling in small groups, matching plastic cups in hand, but not him. He found himself sticking close to Noctis, but everyone wanted to speak to the prince, and Prompto was soon getting pushed out of the circles that formed naturally around him.

So, he’d make a pass by the drink table to kill time, downing a cocktail—just one—for the liquid courage he required to handle the anxiety of constantly shaking hands with and introducing himself to a slew of new people he’d probably never talk to again.

_Oh, what’s your name?_

_Prompto Argentum, it’s nice to meet you._

He’d forget their name two minutes later, but they’d smile like they were friends if they glimpsed one another in passing.

It was more exhausting than Tactics and Arms class.

Prompto quickly lost track of time (and the number of drinks he’d had), but all that mattered was what existed within the four walls of the apartment, the loud music and dimmed lights making it easy for everything else to fade into the background.

He’d gotten separated from Noct for the umpteenth time and was just squeezing through a gaggle of girls to search for the prince when he heard someone call his name.

“Prompto?”

In the middle of the group was Yuna, barely recognizable to him in her short white dress, hair down and curled over her bare shoulders. She was flanked by two girls he had never met before, both of which gave him an obvious once-over when she spoke to him.

They were waiting for his response.

_Say something, don’t just stand there like an idiot._

“Heya, ladies!” He finger-gunned, committing to the welcoming and friendly persona he had adopted for the night.

“So, this is the one you told us about?” the blond-haired girl to Yuna’s left wondered. Yuna nodded in confirmation, and Prompto tried to guess what she could be referring to.

The petite girl was dressed in a glittery gold skirt that stopped at her mid-thigh along with a button-up shirt with the hem knotted over her navel as a makeshift crop top, showing off as much of her sun-kissed skin as possible. The shirt looked suspiciously like part of a school uniform, but he knew from her intricate braids and tacky jewelry that she wasn’t from the academy. Her emerald eyes scanned him again, a little slower this time, and Prompto was thankful it was too dark for them to see his blush.

“Prompto, this is Rikku—” Yuna waved to the girl who had spoken, then over to the one on her right. “—and this is Paine.”

Paine, as Yuna called her, was the exact opposite of Rikku, with short, silver hair and an outfit consisting entirely of leather. She squeezed his hand tightly when he offered it for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you,” Paine intoned, betraying no emotion.

Through the buzz of alcohol, Prompto found himself wondering how the two girls had come to be friends with Yuna, although he was hesitant to judge them, his friendship with Gladio, Ignis, and Noctis equally questionable, if not more so.

Yuna was speaking to him—or so he thought. His brain wasn’t functioning at capacity at the moment, and when he spied a head of platinum blond hair weaving between bodies pressed entirely too close together, it completely captured his attention, drawing it away from his peer and her friends.

The stranger had stopped, and her head was tilting in Prompto’s direction, confirming what his heart already knew.

It was Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, the Princess of Tenebrae.

Too stunned to mutter an ‘excuse me,’ Prompto began to make his way towards her, hoping he could intercept her before she found Noctis.

It was what he imagined a good wingman would do.

Shimmying through the throng, Prompto strained not to lose sight of her, his head on a swivel. Gladio’s One-Two Punch in his system succeeded in slowing his steps though, and after bumping into more than a couple individuals, (some more gracious about it than others), he managed to push his way back into the living room, only to find she had effectively disappeared.

He became more frantic when he noticed Noctis sitting on the couch, currently still the center of attention, a girl on either side of him leaning in, precariously close to being in his lap.

_Okay, maybe this is good. She needs to see him with other girls, right?_

But even if it was according to their plan, it simply felt _wrong_. Lunafreya wasn’t to blame for what Noctis was going through with his father, and she certainly wasn’t responsible for Verstael’s expectations.

There had to be a way for them to achieve their goal without her becoming a casualty in the situation.

His scattered thoughts managed to reunite for a split second, giving him clarity.

 _She may not like him that way. And hey, it could be that she doesn’t know about the arranged marriage_.

Everyone had agreed to the plan. There was no reason he should be having second thoughts _now_ of all times.

 _Okay, but how would_ you _feel though if your future betrothed was messing around with other people just to piss his father off? Not great._

Prompto wasn’t sure if he liked how introspective and concerned his drunken self was, and he willed his conscience to let him not overthink things for _once_ in his life, but the change of heart had his stomach flipping, which was dangerous when combined with all the alcohol he had consumed.

He needed to find the bathroom— _fast_.

A minute later, he realized he was in the kitchen, with no recollection of how he got there.

_I could have sworn the bathroom was this way…_

He was turning to walk back out, but the sight of Ignis and Gladio in the corner made him slow. They hadn’t yet realized he was there, and appeared to be in the middle of an intense conversation.

Ignis was speaking in an angry, hushed tone, hand gripping Gladio’s arm in a way that was strangely intimate.

“This is getting out of control, Gladio. You said a _few_ people. Do you realize what a ‘few’ means?”

He was agitated, fingers combing through his perfectly gelled hair.

“Relax, Iggy—” Ignis jerked away as Gladio’s hips pressed into his, and Prompto blinked, rubbing at his eyes like maybe he had imagined it.

“Do _not_ tell me to relax. Something is going to go terribly wrong, and—”

Ignis stopped, made aware of Prompto’s presence as the blond miscalculated the distance between him and the counter, knocking a plastic cup onto the linoleum floor as he leaned against it for support. The last traces of the drink it contained spilled onto the tile with a splash, making Prompto grimace.

“Heya, guys.” He added in a wave, thinking it couldn’t hurt.

All of a sudden, Ignis was his prim and proper self again, shooting Gladio a glare before storming past Prompto and out of the kitchen.

“Trouble in paradise?” Prompto wondered, still gripping the counter.

It was hard to focus on one thing, but he picked out Gladio’s smile and hung onto it like a lifeline.

“Somethin’ like that. How you feelin’ champ?”

Gladio sauntered over, hand squeezing Prompto’s neck.

It felt good—those strong hands—and a moan escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

“Oh _man_ , that’s _so_ nice.”

Taking it as an invitation, Gladio began to knead the muscles in Prompto’s shoulders, balls of tension unfurling as calloused fingers dug into his freckled skin. Soon they were both laughing, Prompto leaning against the upperclassman’s chest in a familiar way that he never would have done if he were sober.

Prompto’s words were slow, as they took more effort than usual. “You’re really big. Just a big, _beefy_ gay— _guy_.”

He giggled at the mistake, and there was that chuckle again over Prompto’s shoulder, the rolling thunder to Noctis’s lightning—that meant that Ignis had to be the rain.

_Does that make me the sunshine?_

Gladio said something about stating the obvious.

 _Yeah, I’ve called him beefy before._ The memory was a bit fuzzy, but the knowledge was there.

Prompto turned, tongue tripping over his comeback as he found himself looking into a pair of honey brown eyes.

 _Whoa_. _Pretty._

They were close. _Too_ close.

Something registered in Prompto’ brain like the faint ringing of an alarm bell. But Gladio’s lips were nearing his, and then they were _touching_ his, and everything else was a moot point after that.

It was just a brush—a _tease_ —requesting permission, but Prompto had no idea what was happening or how to answer. This was _definitely_ uncharted territory. So, he didn’t pull away, but neither did he lean into it.

Prompto had never kissed a guy before. _Hell_ , he’d never kissed _anyone_ before.

The rattling of the stereos in the living room turned to static, the tumultuous beating of Prompto’s heart now the only melody he could hear as he was trapped by his own indecision.

In the time it took for his drunken brain to catch up with what was happening, Gladio’s mouth covered his. The senior’s hands slid smoothly from Prompto’s shoulders to his waist, anchoring him in place.

A flame sparked hot in Prompto’s gut, a surge of arousal registering through his intoxication.

The alarm bell in his head was louder now, and it was accompanied by quick footsteps and a voice that yelled—

“Hey, Gladio! Someone broke a lamp. Where’s your…”

It was Noctis running into the kitchen.

_Oh gods—_

The world tilted on its axis as Prompto attempted to push Gladio away in his panic—boy, was he _thick—_ and he slipped in the puddle of his own making.

His arms windmilled in a vain attempt to catch himself, but before he crashed face first into the ground, he caught sight of Noctis, wide eyes and ‘o’ shaped mouth betraying his dismay.

Then, everything went black.

* * *

Even with his eyes closed, Prompto felt like he was on a merry-go-round, endlessly spinning in circles.

“How much did he have?” a calm, accented voice inquired.

Everything sounded far away, and he couldn’t get his eyes to open.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t watching!”

“Some friend _you_ are,” a deeper voice grunted.

“Oh, _that’s_ rich! I’m not the one who fucking kissed him!”

“What, princess, you jealous?”

There was a growl of warning.

_Is this what dying feels like?_

He was hot and cold all at once, unable to understand the shadows that moved in and out of his vision.

“Best to let him sleep it off. We can take turns monitoring him.”

The voices started to drift away even as Prompto strained to listen, fading into the darkness.

* * *

“You’re still drunk.”

The world was moving at half its normal speed, and light streaked into Prompto’s view as if he were swimming in a sea of shooting stars. He couldn’t get his eyes to focus, and he squinted, trying to make out who was talking.

There was a weight pressed into his chest, preventing him from sitting up, and he could sense his hands numbly curling into the folds of the sheets surrounding him.

Sheets meant a bed.

_Where am I? Back at school?_

“Prompto?”

His name, soft as a caress, drew attention to the pressure that was currently threatening to crack his skull open. Prompto’s mouth and throat were dry, and he croaked out a wordless answer, the shooting stars in his periphery growing brighter, finally illuminating the face of the person who leaned worriedly over him.

 _Noctis_.

He swallowed, running his tongue across his lips to wet them, and Noctis watched with concentrated silence, the furrow between his brows never relaxing. Closing his eyes against the pain he felt all over his body, Prompto groaned.

“Ignis is going to get you an antidote. How are you feeling?”

_I feel like I got punched in the face. Maybe that’s why Gladio calls it One-Two Punch._

Prompto realized he must not have answered, because Noctis went on. “You already threw up a couple times. Kinda scared us.”

_Is that worry in his voice?_

“I’m…okay,” Prompto croaked, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. He couldn’t say much else, afraid his insides would soon become his outsides, the acidic aftertaste of bile stinging his throat.

“Get some sleep.”

It was an easy enough order to follow.

With the reassuring return of darkness came something Prompto didn’t expect, nimble fingers sliding along his palm to intertwine with his own—and maybe it was only a fever dream, but he felt his pain subside to a dull ache as he crashed into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original, Prompto actually talks to Luna at the party (and she was not initially invited, but came on her own). The major change here is that Prompto and Gladio kiss in this version instead of him and Noctis, but I chose this route to build more drama up to other plot points that I plan to have later in this version of the story.


	8. The Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto feels the effects of the party on his body, mind, and heart. Conversations with Gladio and Noctis lead to a startling development.

The world seemed to be holding its breath, motionless in that way after a bomb detonates, a false sense of security drawing the silence taut. Prompto _felt_ the light, and it made the stabbing sensation in-between his temples worse, even with his eyes closed, so much so that he was afraid to open them.

After several minutes of blinking though, he was able to keep them open long enough to take in his surroundings.

The king-sized bed was warm, the mattress molded to him beneath the thick comforter that was pulled to his chin. As his gaze panned upwards, he found a mounted pair of crossed swords and a scroll tastefully framed over the headboard. It’s definitely wasn’t his academy dorm room, which made him believe it had to be Gladio’s. It’s what you would typically expect for a teenage boy, minimal furniture and questionable decorating, and a leaning shelf in the corner filled to the brim with books, interspersed with a few framed pictures of family members. The color palette of the décor consisted of grays and reds, masculine and understated.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Prompto tried not to move too fast in case it made him nauseous, lifting his head to turn it towards the door.

Gladio was leaning against it, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and holding two mugs of a what smelled like coffee. He didn’t make a move to come in at first, and his look was one of a sinner caught in limbo, unable to go back, but unwilling to go forward, either.

There was a lingering awkwardness that Prompto couldn’t grasp the origin of, his recollection of the party foggy and difficult to parse.

“How are you feeling?” Gladio asked tentatively.

Prompto wanted to ask if this happened to him a lot—drunk people ending up in his bed—but stopped himself.

“Terrible. Like a truck hit me, then a train,” he admitted honestly, accepting the mug Gladio handed him before downing the coffee like an elixir.

“It’s not called One-Two Punch for nothing.” He presented one of his godlike smiles that had Prompto sinking down into the sheets, coffee mug obscuring a rush of blood to his face. Gladio took a long sip of his own coffee before saying, “You, uh, kicked off your clothes in your sleep. They’re in the dresser, if you’re wondering.”

It was the first time Prompto realized that he was only in his underwear, and he started digging through the memories of the night before, bits and pieces slowly coming back to him.

 _What happened_?

There was a flash here—Yuna and her friends—an image there—Lunafreya vanishing in the crowd—and a scenario unfolding like a movie, Ignis and Gladio engaged in some sort of disagreement in the kitchen, the same kitchen where…

Prompto inhaled sharply, sending hot liquid diving down his esophagus. With a sputtering cough that transformed into aggressive hacking, he turned to the side, scrambling to place his mug somewhere where he wouldn’t spill coffee all over himself. Acting quickly, Gladio took it from his hand, patting Prompto on the back.

“You good?”

_Oh shit—Gladio and I, did we—?!_

“How much do you remember of last night?” Gladio asked cautiously.

His tone evoked the image of someone dipping their toes into a pool to test the water, unsure whether they should commit to taking the plunge. Swallowing hard, Prompto shook his head.

“Not much. It’s all fuzzy.” It was a little white lie.

Mostly because he couldn’t bring himself to ask the question; how much did _Gladio_ remember?

_Sweet Six, can my life get any more complicated?_

“Well, you got pretty smashed. …Was it your first time?” It was ambiguous enough that Prompto paused, wondering what exactly he was referring to.

_My first time—kissing a boy? Yeah, it sure was. Kissing anyone, to be exact._

When he realized Gladio was expecting an answer, he nodded emphatically, choosing to assume he meant his first time drinking alcohol, the safer of the two options.

“Yeah, um, I’ve never gotten drunk before.”

Gladio heaved a heavy sigh that could have been a sign of relief as he ran a hand through his already unkempt hair. He’s never seen the boy’s hair down, and the dark locks fell in waves past his sculpted shoulders.

“In the future, you gotta pace yourself.”

Thankful that the topic was gravitating away from whatever he did or did not remember, Prompto eased back against the pillow.

“Yeah, I learned my lesson.” He paused, hoping his next question wouldn’t seem desperate. “Sooo, where’s Ignis and Noctis?”

Gladio made a noise that was between a groan and a growl as he flopped onto the other side of the bed, glaring at the ceiling. Meanwhile, Prompto tried very hard not to think about the fact that he and Gladio were lying in bed together after sharing a drunken kiss the night before.

“Well, Ignis and I got in a fight. He’s not exactly pleased with how things played out last night, and His Royal Pain-in-the-Ass went home with him to sleep off the booze, but I think we made progress as far as the plan is concerned. Ignis said he saw a message from Regis on his phone…”

Prompto listened, thinking—hoping—that maybe Gladio didn’t remember their kiss. If he did, he was acting extremely casual about it.

Did that mean it _wasn’t_ a big deal? Did guys just kiss their guy friends when they were drunk? That was a possibility, right?

_He’s a super touchy guy. And I’ve heard of things like that happening before._

‘Experimenting,’ they called it. It was what teenagers did, or so they said. Whoever ‘they’ were.

Totally normal.

“…I saw Lunafreya,” Prompto remembered aloud, sifting through his piecemeal memories once more.

Gladio’s chuckle bounced off Prompto’s chest as the upperclassman turned on one side to face him, and for one terrifying second he thought the boy might kiss him again.

Terrifying, because the idea of it didn’t bother him as much as it should have.

Totally _not_ normal.

 _Maybe I am_ _broken._

“Oh man, you really don’t remember, do you? Apparently, Ravus told Luna about what Noctis said about her, and she wasn’t happy.”

Taking in Prompto’s blank expression, Gladio clarified.

“You know, about her being the only one ‘under him’?”

“Oh— _no_.” Prompto winced. He could only imagine how that conversation went. He made a mental note to ask Noct about it later.

There was the sound of the front door opening and closing before Ignis’s voice rang out, temporarily tabling Prompto and Gladio’s discussion.

“Hello?”

With one smooth movement, Gladio rolled off the bed, on his feet by the time Ignis walked into the bedroom.

“Ah, Prompto, what a relief to see you awake. How is your appetite? I planned to whip up some breakfast to help us recover from last night’s—” his eyes slid menacingly towards Gladio, “— _festivities_.”

Even though he was still queasy, Prompto wasn’t about to turn down the offer. No one turned down Ignis’s food if they knew what was good for them.

“That sounds awesome, actually. Thanks.” Ignis gave a nod and a single tight-lipped smile.

“Very well. Gladio, I could use your help.” 

It wasn’t a question, and Gladio followed Ignis without arguing, giving Prompto the space he needed to recover in peace.

With his friends gone, Prompto returned his attention to the invisible battle raging inside him, but he was unable to determine if what he was feeling was just the effects of the unfortunate hangover, or something else entirely.

Basic human functions had to come before self-exploration though, and after showering and relieving himself, Prompto felt closer to normal and less like a stressed cactuar about to shed all its needles. He shrugged on his clothes next, which were in the drawer just as Gladio said.

By the time Prompto found himself in the kitchen, Gladio and Ignis were finishing up a round of pancakes. He sat at the island counter, pushing aside several beer cans to clear space to prop his head in his hands and watch them work. They teased each other in the way that best friends did, moving seamlessly around one another without having to give directions, no doubt a result of spending countless hours together over the years.

When they were done cooking, the two were laughing and conversing normally again, all signs of their argument vanishing like it had never existed—much to Prompto’s relief.

The food itself was a godsend, pancakes lathered in syrup and butter soothing Prompto’s aching head and empty stomach. When he finished eating, he was so full that he could barely move, exhaustion resurfacing and making his limbs and eyelids heavy. Gladio offered to call a car to drive Prompto back to the dorms, but he wasn’t ready to face Noctis—not yet.

Instead, he offered to help clean up, but Ignis shooed him out of the kitchen, saying: “All you should be doing is resting.”

Gladio walked Prompto back to his room, insisting that Prompto should take his bed again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

The image of Gladio sleeping next to him shot through his mind, sending a strong spark down to the base of Prompto’s spine along with it.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

They paused at the bedroom door together, Gladio’s arm propped over Prompto’s head on the door frame, and Prompto took in the full size of him now that they were alone, imagining those arms curled around him as they laid side-by-side.

The spark became a full-grown flame.

Gladio’s eyes had a glow that Prompto recognized, standing out amidst the half-faded events of the night before.

A hunger that was unmistakably for him, and him alone.

 _Holy shit_. _He remembers—he has to._

He felt his mouth go dry as Gladio’s voice lowered, more than just conversational.

“So, uh, about last night…”

Prompto froze, eyes doubling in size.

He can’t say that he was proud of what he did next. Later, he would blame it on his survival instinct going into overdrive and the deeply ingrained need to avoid confrontation at all costs, but without waiting for Gladio to finish, he took a jerking step back, shutting the door halfway to erect a physical barrier between them.

“S-sorry, um, I feel awful right now, can we talk later?”

He pressed his forehead to the wood, gripping the doorknob like a shield against the emotions that he couldn’t understand.

“Oh.” There was a sting of hurt in Gladio’s voice that made Prompto’s heart sink. “Yeah, sure thing.”

With that, he was gone.

Prompto slumped down to the ground, using his body weight to shut the door the rest of the way before closing his eyes, every part of him feeling heavier than ever before.

* * *

_“What’s wrong?”_

_Prompto looked over, adjusting his tie as he uncrossed his legs, uncomfortable in the suit he wore. It was raining outside, that much he knew._

_He also knew that the woman who was addressing him was his wife. She was plain—blonde hair to her shoulders, baby blue eyes. From Niflheim, probably. Like him, and like his father._

_She stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. It was for a soup she was making._

_Prompto had the vague ideation that a child was asleep upstairs—their child—his son._

_He felt uneasy, his palms were sweating._

_“Nothing.”_

_His voice sounded foreign to him. It was older, tired._

_“He’ll be here soon.” She had set the table for three._

_Suddenly, Prompto was sitting at the same table, hand shaking as he took a sip of water, staring across the room towards the door._

_The living room was also the kitchen. It made sense even though it didn’t, not really._

_Someone was knocking, and he was answering it._

_“Your Majesty, please come in.”_

Noctis? Why was Noctis here?

_His wife was pulling out the chair for Noctis to sit, and Noctis was older, with a beard and stringy hair that didn’t fit his face, and he looked tired too, even as he smiled._

_He greeted Prompto’s wife, complimented her cooking. Prompto thought it tasted awful and that he was just being polite._

_“Oh, have you met my husband?” Noctis was asking._

_There were four people at the table, but they hadn’t set the table for four._

_Prompto felt embarrassed—and worried—worried his wife would know._

_Gladio was smiling, and he was holding Noctis’s hand on the table—the audacity of it._

_He was smiling right at Prompto, and Prompto’s stomach was upset._

_The soup was terrible, but this was worse._

_“Prompto and I have met,” Gladio was saying. “A long time ago.”_

_Prompto’s wife was curious, and she was also in Gladio’s lap, but Noctis only had eyes for him._

_“Prompto, let’s leave them. Come with me.”_

_Noctis was Noctis again—the one that Prompto knew, and he was asking a married man to come away with him._

_But they were high schoolers._

_And they were in their dorm room, sitting on the bottom bunk. They were the ones holding hands._

_Prompto’s stomach still felt upset._

I can’t kiss him. What if I throw up?

_It seemed like a valid concern, but Noctis wasn’t kissing him, he was staring out the window._

_Verstael was standing there, and he was saying something that Prompto couldn’t hear, but he could tell that he was angry. He was pounding on the glass, and it was beginning to crack. Soon, it would break._

_Prompto felt fear seize him, and Noctis was smiling, saying—_

* * *

Prompto came to with a gasp that felt like the first breath of air after being underwater for far too long. It took him a minute to even out his inhales and exhales, and by the time he did, he realized he was not in Gladio’s room anymore.

_How’d I get back to my room?_

He stared up at the familiar ceiling above his bunk, wondering if this was a dream within a dream.

“…Prompto?”

It was so jarring to hear Noctis’s voice after what he had just experienced that it took Prompto hearing it a second time to realize that he hadn’t answered.

“Prompto, you awake?”

“…y-yeah.” His voice cracked, dry and sore from sleeping.

_I feel awful._

Suddenly Noctis’s head was poking up over the side of the bed, and he eyed Prompto with concern.

“Dude, you’ve been out all day. Gladio had to carry you in here. You alright?”

“What day is it?” Prompto asked instead, fishing in his pocket for his phone and not finding it.

_Where’s my phone?_

“Sunday. You still feeling sick?”

_Yeah, actually._

“I’m okay,” he said instead, not wanting Noctis to worry more than he already had, but the prince didn’t seem to be fooled.

“You should go to the infirmary.” He had folded his arms on the wooden frame and now rested his chin on them, still watching Prompto intently.

“Where’s my phone?”

“Prompto, did you hear me? You don’t look so good.”

Prompto was tired, hungry, and felt like he was going to throw up all at once, and he wasn’t in the mood for advice.

“I said I’m okay,” he snapped, throwing an arm over his face so he wouldn’t have to look at the prince. Noctis had the same look he’d had in Prompto’s dream, and he could barely stand it.

“Alright, if you say so,” Noctis said, backing down. Prompto could feel him shrugging, the mattress shifting slightly with the movement.

“Gladio explained what happened to you at the party.”

Prompto sat up so quick that he hit his head on the ceiling.

“Ow _—fuck—_ ow!” he hissed, covering his head with both hands as if he could push away the pulsating throb on the top of his skull.

“Whoa! Are you okay? Take it easy, buddy.”

Noctis’s arms were reaching for him, and Prompto tried to swat them away, but the prince was surprisingly strong and peeled the blond’s fingers back with ease.

“Let me see—shit, it’s already swelling.”

Prompto closed his eyes when he felt Noctis’s palm cover his forehead, shuddering at the chill he felt from the coolness of the prince’s skin against his own.

“Dude, you’re burning up. You really need to go see someone.”

“I said I’m—”

“You’re not okay.” Noctis interrupted firmly, and it was the first time that Prompto thought he sounded anything like a prince. It gave the blond pause, and he peaked around Noctis’s arm to look at him.

As if realizing what he had done, Noctis pulled back and retreated into himself, eyes now downcast.

”My mom, she…” There was a hesitation, a vulnerability that Prompto had never seen before, and it fascinated him.

In the weeks since they had met, Noctis had never once mentioned his family outside of ‘the plan.’

 _Maybe this really is a dream_.

“…when I was born, she got sick, and she—didn’t make it.”

The confession took Prompto’s breath away. What do you say after that?

The prince’s hand came up to cradle the back of his own head, and Prompto had the fleeting thought that he wished he could hold it—that he could comfort him, tell him that it was okay.

_I never knew my mom._

But who was he to Noctis?

It wasn’t his place. So, Prompto let the moment pass, glancing idly down at his empty hands.

“So, yeah, sorry if it freaks me out a little—seeing you like this.”

Prompto tried to put his feelings into words, at least for Noctis’s sake.

“I’m not used to people worrying about me.”

That earned a laugh and a wry smile, Noctis shaking his head.

“Obviously.”

There was that word again. How was everything so damn obvious if Prompto kept missing it?

“If I’m not feeling better by tonight—” he judged that it was late afternoon by the sunlight streaming through the window, “—then I promise I’ll go to the infirmary. Deal?”

The relief on Noctis’s face tugged at Prompto’s lips, pulling them up at the corners.

“Deal,” the prince agreed. “You’ll get to meet Luna while you’re lucid if you do.”

He gave Prompto a look that the blond didn’t particularly like, one that said he knew something Prompto didn’t.

 _Oh no_.

“What did I do?” Prompto groaned. Noctis was climbing up now, sitting cross-legged so that his hair brushed the ceiling.

“Well…let’s just say that your meeting was kind of…messy. You threw up, and—”

“No, no, no, don’t tell me!”

Mortified, Prompto gripped the sheets and threw them over his head, stifling a groan. He was thankful he didn’t remember _that_ at least. Noctis’s warm laughter had him creeping back out of hiding.

“Long story short, you saved me. She, uh, was tearing into me pretty hard before you and Gladio came out of the kitchen.”

Prompto braced himself, thinking Noctis was about to mention the kiss, but to his surprise, he didn’t even hint at it.

“Your plan worked, you know—well, sort of.”

“Huh?”

Noctis sat back against the wall, stretching his legs long so that they bumped against Prompto’s.

“My dad called. Guess he heard about the party from someone.”

He knew that his reaction should have been one of joy. This is what they had been working towards, getting Noctis pulled out of school, but all Prompto felt was a sinking disappointment. Once Noctis was gone, his life would return to normal. No roommate, no friends, and no future. Only his father’s wrath.

“You know what he told me?”

Prompto picked his head up, trying to mentally prepare himself to smile and congratulate the prince even if he didn’t feel like it.

But Noctis scoffed, saying, “That he had ‘been my age’ once, and just be careful not to get caught.”

“Oh?” Prompto kept his expression neutral even though he felt like jumping for joy, the effort of it making it difficult to focus on what the prince was saying.

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it. So, I think Gladio helped me figure out a better plan—if you’re cool with it.”

_Why wouldn’t I be?_

The look on Noctis’s face was cautiously optimistic, and incredibly nervous. “Well, he told me he kissed you when he was drunk. He does that—kiss people, I mean—and it got us thinking that, well.” He was flushing, not looking at Prompto now, and Prompto’s sense of dread was climbing at an alarming rate, heart lodged in his throat. “Well…we thought that neither of our dads would be pleased to know if we were dating…a guy, that is.”

The world, previously still and stable, started to rush by at breakneck speed, nauseating.

Prompto felt fear seize him, and Noctis was smiling, saying—

“So, if we _pretended_ to date…”

Prompto felt like he had been thrown back into his dream; none of what Noctis was saying made any sense. The glass on the window was cracking, creating a void for him to be sucked into.

When it finally broke, he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original there was a convoluted plot point that involved Ravus cursing Prompto with magic at the party, which ultimately led to him getting sick. Also, he managed to blackmail Prompto with photos of him and Noctis kissing (which obviously doesn't happen in this version.) 
> 
> No fake dating idea was never suggested in the original, but I thought this was a delicious way to add drama and a way more plausible reason for Noctis getting kicked out of school once the original plan fell through.


	9. Damned if You Do(n’t)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto finally works up the nerve to ask Noctis for something, but the trade-off is painful.
> 
> Still sick, Prompto goes home with Verstael to recover away from the academy.

“The body has its own way of working things out when the brain can’t. It seems like a classic case of stress.”

His eyelids fought their way open at the sound of the gentle voice, and he was met with the vision of a bright halo surrounding a young girl in a white sheath dress, her blonde hair pulled back neatly, not a single strand out of place. She was leaning over him, smiling like an angel straight out of a cosmogony book.

_Lunafreya Nox Fleuret._

It took Prompto several seconds to realize that no, he wasn’t dreaming again, and yes, that was an _actual_ halo cast by the sunlight streaming in through the large window behind her.

He was in another bed again, and he immediately thought that he was tired of waking up in different places without any knowledge of how he had gotten there.

 _No more alcohol for me_ , he vowed.

A pair of delicate fingers slid down to the natural notch in his wrist and take his pulse.

“It’s good to see you awake, Prompto Argentum.”

 _Is it?_ he thought bitterly.

“You mustn’t move too quickly. You are quite weak.”

When he attempted to sit up, his head spun as if to affirm her words, forcing him horizontal. He didn’t comment yet, watching listlessly as Lunafreya secured a blood pressure cuff to his arm. When she was done, she wrote the numbers of the vital signs she had taken on a notepad before adjusting an IV bag hanging at the bedside.

“I am sorry you ended up in this position,” she said with sincerity. “You’re lucky to have such a good friend to look after you.”

_Friend?_

He noticed the other person at his bedside then. They hadn’t moved until she had mentioned them, but now Noctis leaned forward, face as white as the sheets covering Prompto.

A rush of nausea returned, and Prompto bit down hard to keep it from physically manifesting.

The prince’s words still burned in his mind, no time lost between hearing them and waking up.

_If we pretended to date…_

“I’m sure your father will be happy to hear you’re awake. Would you like me to call him for you?”

He wanted to cry; he didn’t bother to tell her that Verstael probably wouldn’t care.

“You don’t have to,” Prompto muttered instead, choosing to look at her instead of Noctis. She had a kind, unassuming face, and there was no trace of judgement in her eyes.

 _Maybe she_ is _an angel_.

“It’s no trouble.”

Her hand came to rest on Prompto’s shoulder, graceful as a dove. He could feel that she was warm through the cotton gown that he wore, and it eased the aching in his joints, but not the one in his heart.

When she got out of her chair, he almost begged her to stay. He wanted just a few more moments of believing that Noctis _was_ his friend, and not someone who just wanted to use him like everybody else.

But he didn’t stop her, and she left the room so quietly that he didn’t even hear her shut the door.

Pushing himself up slowly this time, Prompto swung his legs over the edge of the bed and put his bare feet on the tile floor, facing Noctis.

The prince’s hands were clasped between his knees, and he swallowed, eyes downcast and hollow with an unknown emotion.

Neither of them spoke.

Prompto pressed to his feet, and although they shook, his legs held, and he was able to make slow, stuttering steps to the bathroom.

“Do you need help—” Noctis was half-rising out of his chair, but Prompto waved him away stubbornly.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

Prompto didn’t have the energy to argue, so he kept going, needing the moment alone to compose himself. Blessedly, Noctis fell silent.

The return trip afterwards sapped all his remaining strength, and he flopped breathlessly back onto the bed, trying to think of what he could say.

“You scared me,” Noctis whispered, saving him the trouble of starting conversation.

Craning his neck, Prompto found Noctis’s eyes—gray clouds.

“I’m sorry.” The apology carried a weight that he hadn’t meant for it to, even if the sentiment was genuine.

He was sorry for a lot more than he could admit.

“Listen, about the plan—”

“I’ll do it.”

“—it was stupid, and…” Noctis trailed off. “What?”

“I’ll do it. On one condition.”

Shock turned to skepticism, Noctis’s eyes narrowing slightly as Prompto found his opening. He’d never asked the prince for anything until now, and he hadn’t planned to, but now he knew that he had no choice.

Transactions were what businessmen did, not friends. You didn’t owe friends favors.

Loved ones weren’t tools to be used and discarded—and because Prompto believed all of this to be true, he also believed he had to distance himself from Noctis.

He didn’t understand it as much as he wanted to, but his kiss from Gladio had awakened something that had been buried deep inside of him, and the one thing he _did_ understand was that, when it came to Noctis, he was in over his head.

And that, if he didn’t push him away— _now_ —Prompto would be broken worse than the window in his dream.

“If I do this for you, I need you to arrange a meeting between your dad and mine.”

Noctis reply was strangled. “ _What_?”

“Please. That’s all I ask.”

Noctis physically turned away to look out the window, body stiffening as if he were about to bolt. If he hadn’t considered cutting ties with Prompto before, he surely would now.

“ _That’s_ what you want? _Really_?” Noctis’s words dripped with venom, but it was too late for Prompto to take it back.

The damage was done.

“…yeah.”

With a single word, Prompto knew he was destroying the friendship they had built over the past few weeks, but the pain they felt now would save them both trouble later—or so he hoped.

Prompto was a Niff bastard, and Noctis was the Prince of Insomnia. It was better for everyone this way.

“…I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong. Well, it’s the least I can do since you’re helping me out. It’s a deal.”

Noctis’s words were cool and indifferent, and they stung like frostbite. He still hadn’t looked back at Prompto, and the blond kept wishing that he would turn and give him one of those true smiles and say that it was all a big joke, but he never did.

The knowledge that he was doing this to protect himself hurt more than the hangover, more than the sickness— more than his father’s disappointment.

But what choice did Prompto have?

He lowered his head, blinking down at his hands through a mist of tears, finally accepting what he had come to suspect.

 _I’m falling in love with him—but that’s not how this story is supposed to go._ _The prince marries a princess, not a pauper._

There was a knock, and Prompto quickly wiped his eyes before Lunafreya came back in.

“Your father is going to come and pick you up in an hour. In the meantime, is there anything I can get for you?”

Prompto stared at her blankly. No other desires came to mind except for one.

_I wish I could just die._

“No, I’m good. Thank you,” he answered timidly. She nodded, smiling again, but this time Prompto didn’t feel anything except numb.

“Noctis, he doesn’t need any added stress from you,” the girl added teasingly.

“Right. Of course not,” he agreed without looking at her. He was heading for the door, footsteps carrying him away from Prompto, and she followed.

Prompto was alone after that, and he felt it like a convulsion that rippled through his entire body, choking the life from him.

With no one there to see it, he hung his head and cried.

* * *

Verstael came an hour later, as promised.

Lunafreya wheeled Prompto to the front office in a wheelchair, which was embarrassing beyond belief, but he couldn’t have walked even if he wanted to.

Although he was sick, the last place Prompto wanted to be was at home with his father, but with the choice no longer his own to make, they piled into the car and sat in silence throughout the short ride to Verstael’s research facility.

Real estate was already expensive enough in Insomnia, so instead of renting a house _and_ a building for his work, Prompto’s father lived on the same property where he did his research. The structure reminded the student of a prison, right down to the bars on the windows and the barbed wire fence around it. It was large and white with a sterile, cold feel, much like his father himself.

Once they had entered through the front gates with a key card and parked, Verstael turned to his son with calculating eyes.

“Are you strong enough to walk?” his question, disdainful and pointed, reminded Prompto of how much of a burden he was to everyone around him.

Not wanting to hear Verstael complain about having to go out of his way for him, Prompto muttered a ‘yes,’ even though the answer was ‘no.’

“I hope you know what an inconvenience this is. I’m on the verge of a major breakthrough, and I don’t have time to be dealing with you.”

He didn’t wait for Prompto to get out of the car, walking at a pace that had Prompto struggling to keep up.

“Sorry,” Prompto said in the hopes it would appease him.

“What happened to you? Please tell me you weren’t involved in that hellacious party downtown. You can’t afford to sully my reputation any more than you already have by getting expelled from the academy. Do you understand?”

Verstael sneered, and Prompto was out of breath, so he used it as a reason not to respond. The question was rhetorical anyway.

Scanning his ID at a pair of large sliding doors, Prompto’s father barely paused before crossing the lobby to the a nearest elevator, pressing the button for the basement floor where he lived.

“I don’t get invited to parties,” Prompto said dryly.

As they were waiting, he realized he still didn’t know where his phone was, and he wondered if it was back in his room at the school.

No contact with the outside world meant that Verstael would serve as his only source of human interaction for the foreseeable future.

 _Yuck_.

“Headmaster Izunia said you were making headway with the prince, and I have it on good authority that he attended,” his father persisted, temper flaring. Clearly, he felt that Prompto was lying—and he was right.

Prompto wished he would just drop it, and almost said so, but caught himself. The last thing he needed was to be trapped in his father’s apartment while he was angry.

“We’re not that close,” was the excuse Prompto used before changing the subject. “I’m hungry.”

The elevator dinged, the doors opening, and they stepped inside, Prompto leaning heavily on the wall to hold himself up.

Verstael huffed. “You’re a teenage boy now. You’re perfectly capable of fending for yourself.”

It was an irony that Prompto didn’t appreciate.

“Can we get pizza?” Prompto asked. While his father rarely said yes to anything he wanted, after the weekend he’d had, he was willing to take a risk.

_What do I have to lose?_

There was a pause as the elevator opened into the large open area that served as Verstael’s home, and they walked through the expansive living area and into the modern kitchen.

“Very well, you can place an order.”

The man sounded just as surprised to be agreeing to the suggestion as Prompto was to hear his answer.

“…thanks.”

Verstael continued through the kitchen and pulled back a heavy metal sliding door that led to a bedroom, disappearing behind it without acknowledging Prompto further.

After he was gone, Prompto situated himself on one of the long couches in the living room and lied down.

He hadn’t been home (if you could call it that) in what felt like months, but nothing had changed. For all his faults, Verstael had a tasteful, industrial-modern style when it came to home decorating. The metal and mechanical accents scattered throughout the floor plan lent themselves well to the clean lines and framed blueprints he used as artwork. Prompto’s bedroom was actually an attic space over the kitchen, but it had direct access to the bathroom off of his father’s office and Verstael never bothered him there, which made it ideal.

Prompto didn’t think he had the strength to climb the stairs though, so he allowed himself to drift off for a while, forgetting about food entirely.

When he woke up, he had no concept of the hour, but he was no longer able to ignore his hunger.

Finding he felt marginally better after napping, Prompto shuffled back into the kitchen and ordered pizza from one of the few restaurant numbers his father had written down and pinned to the fridge before finding the narrow set of steps tucked behind it.

Clinging tightly to the railing, he pulled himself up and through a curtain of low hanging fabric to where there was a mattress framed by built in shelves. Reaching instinctively for the string in front of his face, he pulled, turning on the single hanging bulb overhead. He crawled on hands and knees to the twin-sized bed on the floor.

There were steps behind a short banister just on the other side of the bed that descended into the office bathroom. A TV mounted in the ceiling opposite the built ins floated just above what Prompto used as a desk space. The only ‘wall’ in the room was a set of closet doors that held what little clothing he had, mostly unworn since he’d joined the academy due to the uniform he was required to wear.

It was a small space, but it was his. Prompto had spent many afternoons as a child playing there or reading while his father passed countless hours in the office below, ignoring him just as he was doing now.

Prompto turned on the TV and waited for the pizza to arrive, putting on a low-stakes reality TV show about surviving in the wild. He had no desire to watch it, but it was better than being alone with his thoughts.

The food eventually came, and Prompto tipped generously since he was using his father’s money. When he returned to his room with the box in hand, he could hear faint rustling coming from the office, a sign that Verstael had wasted no time in getting back to work.

As long as his father didn’t bother him, Prompto didn’t care what he did.

 _Maybe being home isn’t be so bad after all_.

He ate pizza and watched TV until his head started to nod. Eventually, he dragged himself down to the bathroom to wash and get ready to sleep, but as he was getting out of the shower, he could hear his father’s clipped voice speaking through the door.

It wasn’t like him to speak loud enough for him to make out his words, a testament to his anger.

”—I will _not_. You know very well that wasn’t part of our agreement…”

Curiosity getting the best of him, Prompto pressed his ear to the wall.

Who was he talking to?

“…I cannot simply _move_ , are you mad?! My research is of the utmost importance.”

Now he had Prompto’s full attention, the boy’s entire body molding to the wall as if it might help him hear better. An abrupt bang on the other side of the bathroom door had him nearly jumping out of his skin, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from making a sound.

“Don’t you _dare_ threaten me! You know very well that you will need my help to infiltrate Insomnia. If you do not stick to our agreement, I will call off our deal entirely.”

Something else slammed against a solid object inside Verstael’s office, but Prompto didn’t so much as whimper, unable to believe what he had just heard.

_Infiltrate Insomnia?_

Holding his breath until his lungs burned, Prompto tiptoed back up the steps to his bedroom and got changed, thoughts traveling a mile a minute.

Hearing some noise below, he hurriedly turned off his light and crawled under the covers, pretending to be asleep even though his mind was very much awake.

It seemed there was no denying the rumors now; Prompto was the bastard son of a Niff traitor. One who just so happened to be actively plotting treason against the crown.

Now the question was, what was he going to do about it?

* * *

Prompto didn’t sleep well after that first night. His conflicting emotions and anxious thoughts kept him awake, and when he did sleep, he had nightmares that he jolted awake from, covered in a cold sweat.

It was easy enough to avoid his father, and because it was such second nature to him, it didn’t seem like Verstael thought anything of it.

A few days passed in tedious boredom that way, and although Prompto could feel himself getting physically stronger, his mental health was steadily declining, worry eating away at him from the inside out.

The longer he ruminated on the conversation he had overheard, the firmer his decision became to tell someone about it—but who?

He and Noctis weren’t on good terms now, and Verstael didn’t have the best reputation to begin with, so he feared that telling the prince that he thought his own father was a traitor could only end badly. They’d probably throw Verstael in prison, and him too.

Prompto liked Ignis, but they weren’t very close, and Gladio—Prompto still wasn’t sure how he felt about Gladio.

At the end of the day, he determined that Ignis and Gladio were Noctis’s friends first and foremost, not his, which meant they couldn’t be trusted with the information. That left Prompto with maybe a teacher or two. Mrs. G _had_ said she was there for him to talk to if he ever needed help, but he couldn’t just blurt out, “oh, by the way, my dad was talking about infiltrating Insomnia, can you help me?”

Part of Prompto wished he hadn’t heard anything at all so he could just continue living in ignorance. It was too heavy a burden for someone like him to bear, someone with no social standing and no support network.

Life really wasn’t fair, but it was the hand he had been dealt, and everyone was required to play the game.

* * *

Prompto never thought he’d be happy to see the academy again, but it nearly took all his self-control not to fling himself out of his father’s car and kiss the marble steps when they pulled into the driveway of the school on Friday morning.

Barely saying ‘goodbye’ to his father, he took the stairs two at a time, pushing his way through the entranceway where he immediately sprinted up to the second floor where the dormitories resided.

First period would be starting soon, which meant that Noctis wouldn’t be in the room, but at breakfast, so Prompto entered without knocking, shoving his key in the lock. He was relieved to see his phone sitting on his desk, and he immediately plugged it into his charger and sat down to wait. It powered on after a couple of minutes, and he scanned his unread messages, internally cringing at the ones from Noctis, dated several days ago.

Noct  
  
**Monday** 10:15 PM  
hey, when you’re feeling better we need to talk  
**Tuesday** 9:05 AM  
Hey  
9:43 AM  
are you ignoring me?  
10:00 AM  
fine, don't respond  
12:22 PM  
wow, I thought you were better than this  


Everything went downhill from there, to the point that Prompto finally forced himself to stop reading. Skimming over a couple other less important texts, he eventually landed on one from Gladio, received only last night.

Gladio Amicitia  
  
**Yesterday** 11:11 PM  
When you get back to school, will you please meet up with me? It’s important. Thanks  


He didn’t notice he was chewing on his nails until he bit them all off, and he still hadn’t replied to anyone. Sighing, he tapped on the thread with Gladio, typing and retyping his response half a dozen times before deciding on one.

Gladio Amicitia  
  
**Yesterday** 11:11 PM  
When you get back to school, will you please meet up with me? It’s important. Thanks  
**Today** 07:55 AM  
Where did you want to meet?  


On one hand, he didn’t want to seem too excited considering what Noctis had told him—Gladio kissed people when he was drunk, it didn’t _mean_ anything—but he also didn’t want to seem aloof or angry, because Gladio wasn’t to blame for his feelings, and the upperclassman had only ever been kind to him.

The first bell rang as he gnawed on the inside of his lip, startling him. After nearly a week of being out of school, everything felt foreign and new, but not in a good way. It was as if he was going twenty-five miles per hour when the speed limit was forty-five, and no matter how he tried to catch up, he would always be behind. The off-putting feeling continued all the way to his Basics of Magic class when he stepped through the door and saw that his seat had been taken by someone else.

Feeling lost, he looked around, wanting to find a chair while drawing as little attention to himself as possible.

Thankfully, Miss G came to his rescue.

“Oh, Prompto, I’m sorry, we rearranged seats this week! You’re in the middle there.”

Quickly locating his spot, Prompto plopped down into the chair, inhaling sharply when he found himself staring at a familiar head of hair two seats in front of him. Noctis didn’t bother to turn around or glance in his direction.

 _Back to square one_ , he thought miserably.

Whatever Miss G said during class went in one ear and out the other, and after taking a page of notes that he couldn’t decipher, Prompto set his pen down and stared out the window, daydreaming of being anywhere but the Insomnian Academy for the Elite.

Eventually they were dismissed, but Prompto lingered, watching as Noctis picked up his briefcase and headed straight for the door without waiting.

Realizing that he was in no hurry to go to his advising period, he found himself standing at the corner of Miss G’s desk. She looked up at him in question.

“Yes, Prompto?”

_Now or never._

He inhaled, throwing on the mask that he was out of practice wearing: an unassuming smile, hands sliding into his blazer’s pockets.

“Miss G, you know how you said that if anyone was bothering me that I could come to you?”

His teacher sat up a little straighter, setting aside the papers she was rifling through. Inside the fabric of his coat, Prompto curled his hands into fists, squeezing them tight.

“Of course. Has something happened?”

“No, just—I need some advice.” He told himself he wasn’t losing his nerve—not completely, anyway. It was important to test the waters first to see how receptive she was.

Folding her hands in her lap, Miss G gave the student her undivided attention to show she was listening.

He took in as much air into his lungs as he could before blowing it all out slowly.

_Here goes nothing._

“What if— _theoretically_ —someone you knew was going to do something bad, but you couldn’t talk to them about it?”

“Well, I think that depends…” Miss G answered carefully. “Is this person going to hurt someone else or themselves?”

“Possibly— _probably.”_

Infiltrating Insomnia didn’t sound like something that would happen peacefully, especially if Verstael was involved.

“Well, in that case, you should probably tell a trusted adult about what they’re planning. Maybe your father?”

Prompto balked, but tried not to make his distress look obvious, scratching his head as casually as he could manage while he processed his thoughts.

“And…what if I couldn’t tell my father about it?” _Because my father is the problem._

“The police or some sort of authority figure would probably be your best bet then, provided that it’s something you’re seriously concerned about. In theory, of course.”

She was smiling, and although Prompto knew she was doing her best to assist him, he wasn’t finding anything she said particularly helpful.

Technically, plotting treason wasn’t dangerous on its own, plus he risked people not believing him. He was only a teenager, _and_ he had no physical proof of Verstael’s plans, only basing his assumptions off one phone conversation, which meant it was highly unlikely anyone would take him seriously.

“Thanks, Miss G,” Prompto ultimately said, discouraged.

He still felt lost, and his teacher might have noticed, for she gave him one more suggestion.

“You know, it might not work for you, but any time I’m particularly worried about something, I find that praying helps. Maybe you should try it.”

It seemed silly, but he’d never done it before—and he figured it couldn’t hurt.

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

With a destination in mind, Prompto headed out into the hall, ignoring the second bell as he made his way towards the chapel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original, when in the infirmary Prompto has a group conversation with Ignis/Gladio/Luna and Noctis isn't there at first. He finds out a major plot point that I decided to move to later in the story. 
> 
> In this version, Yuna's interactions with Prompto concerning her music come in a lot later as she takes a backseat in the plot (FORESHADOWING!)
> 
> Prompto's decision to go to the chapel in the original is spurned by the need to find out who cursed him, a cryptic message left for him telling him to go there to find out who was responsible. He also runs into Ravus & Co, which is different here because he chooses to go to the chapel of his own volition.


	10. Controlled Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto meets up with Yuna before heading to the chapel to pray. 
> 
> Once there, his prayers are answered, but not in the way he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Violence contained in this chapter

Later, Prompto would think it was a stroke of pure luck that had him cross paths with Yuna in the hallway. In hindsight, it saved his life, although he wouldn't learn it until much later.

He couldn't say he was happy to see her initially, but she lit up as soon as she saw him in the hallway, making him feel horribly guilty that their last interaction consisted of him meeting her friends and then immediately leaving in the middle of a conversation.

She didn’t let on if she was upset about it though, greeting Prompto enthusiastically.

“Oh, Prompto, you’re back at school! Are you headed to Mrs. Leonhart’s right now?”

He wasn’t, in fact, but she appeared so hopeful that his resolve instantly crumbled, and he nodded.

“Wonderful! I was hoping you might do a playthrough with me if you had the time.”

_Oh, right, her song. I almost forgot._

It had been some time since he had last played it since he didn’t have a guitar at his father’s house, but he remembered the chords, and knew that it probably wouldn’t take very long.

“Oh—sure, no problem.”

They walked shoulder-to-shoulder, and Yuna provided the conversation, making it easy for Prompto just to listen and nod on occasion. He still couldn’t figure out why she was so nice to him—probably because she needed him to play guitar for her solo—but she had a pretty smile, and a joyful laugh, and he found his spirits lifting by the time she ushered him into her cubicle in the workshop.

He took his guitar out from where he had it stashed under his desk, pulling his chair over before closing the door.

“So, if you don’t mind, could you play through it once, and then the second time I’ll join in—”

Prompto was already doing as she asked, sheet music sprawled on the floor between his feet due to the limited space. He only needed to glance down occasionally, strumming the arrangement that he had memorized weeks prior.

Yuna’s eyes grew big, but he pretended not to notice, head bobbing and foot tapping in time to the beat. Without planning to, he was soon humming the lyrics to himself, so that by the time Yuna started to sing, they were in perfect harmony.

Her voice, rich and sweet like honey, was so powerful that Prompto almost felt wrong to keep playing, but she glanced over, and the thrilled sparkle in her eyes encouraged him to keep going.

“Hands, put your empty hands in mine—and scars, show me all the scars you hide…”

It was on a whim that he sang along, a flutter of something in his heart that he hadn’t felt since he first started hanging out with Noctis and the others.

 _Happiness_.

“—and hey, if your wings are broken, please take mine so yours can open too—”

“ _’Cause I’m gonna stand by you.”_

They got through the first verse and the chorus before Yuna started to clap, still wearing a wild grin.

“Mr. Muir was right, you’re _amazing_!” she breathed.

With the simple praise, Prompto was full-on blushing, and he ducked his head to conceal a pleased smile.

“No way, _you’re_ the one who’s amazing.”

He wasn’t trying to flatter her. She had one of those crooning voices that made you want to stop whatever you were doing to listen, and combined with his guitar, the music turned transcendent. It made him wish he had agreed to practice with her sooner.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, eyelashes fluttering as she glanced away. “Maybe, this time, you could sing with me?”

It was a request that humbled him, but caught in the moment, all his nervousness vanished.

“Sure thing.”

When Yuna began to sing, Prompto picked up the vocals effortlessly. They were raw and heart-felt, voices naturally complementing each other to create a harmony, and the music took him far away from where he was, to a place where he was untouchable and nothing else mattered.

It was everything he wanted, and he didn’t want it to end.

All things do, though, and he and Yuna sat in comfortable silence when they finished, basking in the afterglow from what they had created together, something precious, something _special_.

“Thank you, Prompto,” Yuna gushed after another minute passed.

“No, thank _you_.” It didn’t seem like enough. He couldn’t remember the last time he truly felt this light.

Yuna was laughing. “Does this mean you’ll play in the spring show with me?”

“Oh, hell yeah, for sure!” Prompto’s smile was real and wide, not caring if he looked like an idiot. Yuna didn’t seem to mind.

“Another practice session tomorrow, then?”

He was quick to agree, but they ended up playing the song again anyway, reluctant to leave, and it wasn’t until the bell rang that they realized they’d spent the entire period practicing, time speeding up without their knowledge.

“See you tomorrow, Prompto!” Yuna bade.

He thought that they could become good friends in time, but he was reluctant to admit it.

 _She just wants something from you, Prompto. She has to be nice_ , _remember_? his inner monologue scolded.

_But what if…?_

He should have felt guilty for skipping Tactics and Arms to go to the academy chapel, but he didn’t—not in the slightest. Let Mr. Crescent be angry with him and report his absence to the headmaster, he didn’t care. Okay, so he cared a _little_ , but Prompto was too mentally and emotionally drained to face Gladio and Noctis _and_ be expected to do physical activity.

The third-floor halls were quiet, deserted since classes were currently in session, and by the time Prompto reached the tall wooden doors leading into the chapel, the silence felt almost ominous.

He placed a hand against the weathered wood inlaid with spiraling patterns. Although they were built in the same style as Headmaster Izunia’s study, the church’s doors evoked a tender warmth that his did not. The chapel had always served as a haven for those seeking relief, and Prompto had fond memories of falling asleep in the pews on days where he felt particularly lost. Those days were nearly as faded as the doors themselves, but they were beginning to come back with surprising clarity.

Prompto pushed the doors open with some effort and stepped across the stone floor, footsteps echoing. His eyes were immediately drawn to the colors that danced along the walls, cast by the sun that streamed through the stained-glass windows over the altar, each pane framing a different legendary Astral in all their glory. Walking down the aisle past the wooden benches, he approached the raised dais where a tome of cosmogony had been left for students to browse at their leisure. Fingers running over the worn cover, Prompto gazed up at the spire and through the multicolored glass, deep in thought.

“Miss G said I should try praying,” he spoke aloud, voice barely audible in his own ears. “So…that’s what I’m going to do.”

What was it about churches that made people want to whisper? As if speaking would disrupt something that he couldn’t put a name to, even as he wanted to be heard.

“So, um. Dear gods…” He hoped that they wouldn’t mind that he didn’t call them out individually. He’d never prayed before, and so he didn’t feel like he was on a first-name basis with them—not yet, anyway. “I’m Prompto, and I’ve got a problem. Okay, so I have several, but one really big one. And I’m sorry that I haven’t spoken to you until now, but I’m not sure if I really believe in anything, so…”

He was fidgeting, hand sliding back and forth over the cosmogony book like its contents might rub off on him and give him luck.

“I think…Verstael is going to do something bad. And also, that I might have screwed things up with Noctis by asking him what my father wanted me to, even though I didn’t really have a choice. I’d just like to be a normal kid, you know? Take photos, play music, make friends. I’d even just take nobody hating me, to be honest. But I don’t know what to do about any of it.”

Prompto swallowed hard, an unexpected surge of emotion making his voice waver.

“…if you could just give me a sign, that’d be great. I don’t want to lose my friends, but I don’t want to piss my father off either, and I’m really, _really_ tired of being a pawn in other people’s games.”

There was no grand revelation as he finished his prayer, no feeling of being different. Had he done it right? What if the gods hadn’t heard him? Would he ever really know?

Prompto bowed his head, fighting back the tears that he knew would come.

_Please. Just one sign—tell me what to do._

It seemed like too much of a coincidence when Prompto heard the chapel doors swing open behind him, but when he turned to see who it was, the last person he expected to see was Ravus Nox Fleuret.

 _Don’t panic_ , Prompto thought to himself, even as he felt his stomach drop out of his body with the prince’s approach.

“Argentum,” the upperclassman said with a smile that made Prompto’s heart clench in terror. “It must be fate that brought us together.”

 _This isn’t what I meant when I asked for a sign._ Ravus’s arrival was a weird sort of cosmic irony that he didn’t find the least bit amusing. Were the gods laughing at him?

The fair-haired senior drew close enough for Prompto to reach out and touch (not that he wanted to), and he averted his eyes to the ground, focusing on the tips of his shoes.

“I was just going,” Prompto mumbled. His pulse was erratic—he could feel it in the way his fingers trembled, chest growing tight. Ravus scanned him like a hunter eyeing its prey.

“I didn’t take you for a believer,” Ravus said. He made no move to step aside. If Prompto wanted to leave, he’d have to push Ravus out of the way. They were at a standoff. “What did you pray for?”

Prompto swallowed, taking a step like he meant to squeeze past, but Ravus stepped with him, blocking his way again.

“Please, I don’t want any trouble,” he protested, breaths quickening in his fear.

“We’re just having a conversation, Argentum. Now, what did you pray for? Forgiveness for your father’s sins, perhaps? Or for someone to love you? Certainly, both would require divine intervention.”

The words Ravus spoke were cutting, meant to hurt, and Prompto felt them like a blade pressed against his throat.

“First, your father provides the Niflheim empire with the technology required to build their army, then that same army invades Tenebrae years later, the Empire conquering the kingdom after Lucis turns its back on it. Perhaps you and Prince Noctis are meant for each other after all.” His tone had dropped to a dangerous level, and it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on Prompto’s head.

“What do you want from me?” Prompto whispered.

He had nothing to do with any of this, but suddenly Ravus’s hatred for him made sense.

“You should do us all a favor and jump out that window.” Sneering, Ravus gestured behind Prompto, and his eyes flitted up, following his hand.

It was the same hand that hit him across the face, moving so fast that he didn’t register it had until he felt a blossom of pain over his jaw that sent him reeling backwards. He cried out as he toppled to his knees, looking through his blurred vision to see Ravus kneel and grab him firmly by his hair.

Fingers curled into Prompto’s golden locks, and it was almost gentle, drawing sharp contrast with the prince’s wicked smirk.

“I want you to tell me what Noctis is playing at—and why, in Bahumut’s name, he insists on associating with people who will disgrace what remains of the House of Fleuret. He may not be worthy of my sister, but at least he is of royal blood. _You_? You are lower than the dirt, unfit to grace the bottom of my shoes.” The statement was emphasized by Ravus spitting at Prompto’s feet, and the blond watched as a trail of saliva slid down the fabric.

“I don’t know,” Prompto said, and it was the truth, but it still didn’t seem to satisfy the prince.

He didn’t dare to move lest Ravus hit him again, even as he felt blood trickle from his nose and drip onto his uniform jacket.

“Let’s have a guess, shall we?” Ravus drawled.

There was a throbbing in his skull, and Prompto knew that he needed to give Ravus some sort of answer that would satisfy him before the boy’s temper turned deadly.

“I—I don’t know. He doesn’t even want to go to school here—or marry Luna.” Emotion crept into Prompto’s voice, causing it to crack as a sob racked his body.

“Then why bother to associate with a lowlife like you?” Ravus’s hand gripped tighter, yanking hard so that Prompto feared he’d tear his hair out of his skull. The blond clawed at the prince’s hand, desperation making him frantic, only to earn a knee in the face in retaliation.

There was a crunch on impact, and Prompto experienced a new kind of agony, a scream garbled by a gushing of blood from both nostrils.

Ravus released him, and the student curled in on himself, hands coming up to cradle his face.

“Tch. Pathetic.”

It would have been easy to tell Ravus about his plan to help Noctis, but for some reason he still felt loyal to his roommate. It was stupid, and he knew that loyalty would be his downfall.

“I am quickly tiring of this game with you, Argentum. Perhaps it would be better to end it.”

Prompto’s head swam as he lifted it, palms and clothes now stained red with his own blood.

“Tell me what I want to know,” Ravus demanded a second time, grabbing Prompto by the hair again and pulling him to his feet.

He was too weak to resist as Ravus began to drag him towards the altar, and for a moment he thought the senior might throw him on it like some strange sort of sacrifice, but the prince didn’t stop there. They continued past it, towards one of the stained-glass windows, and with his free hand, Ravus unlatched it, pushing it open to the outside.

Prompto’s breath caught—he tasted his own blood.

“Well?” Ravus prompted, impatient. He shook the fist that still held Prompto, and the student’s head and neck followed it back and forth like a rag doll. “Care to jump?” he taunted.

Prompto could feel the fresh air on his face, a delicate breeze fanning the blood on his cheeks and drying it. He closed his eyes against the sun, its brilliance only serving to make the pain in his head worse, and he pressed one hand to the wall to keep his balance.

“…I agreed to help Prince Noctis so he’d have the king meet with my father and support his research. We planned to have his dad pull him out of school—by having him party and date other people.” The words came out in a rush.

 _So much for loyalty_.

Ravus made a noise of disgust.

“How far he has fallen,” he spat in disbelief.

Without warning, Prince Ravus’s rage returned in full force, and he threw Prompto down before swiftly kicking him in the ribs. It was unexpected, and the sound of bones cracking was dulled by what Prompto belatedly realized were his own cries.

“You and Prince Noctis will get what you deserve, mark my words. Without your fathers, my home wouldn’t have been razed to the ground and Lunafreya wouldn’t be forced into a sham of a marriage—and now, you _dare_ to interfere with even that?”

Several more blows delivered in quick succession had Prompto writhing, hands raised overhead in a futile attempt to protect himself.

It was no use. No one was coming to save him—he was at Ravus’s mercy, and the prince had none.

“Listen closely, Argentum. You are going to leave this academy. How you choose to do it, I don’t care. You are never to speak to me, Prince Noctis, or my sister, ever again. If anyone asks you about your injuries, tell them you fell down a set of stairs. If you don’t do as I ask, I will ensure that you regret it. Do I make myself clear?”

 _Crystal_ , he wanted to say, but all he managed to do was nod. Everything hurt—breathing, thinking— _living_.

_I wish I could die._

“Lunafreya…wouldn’t approve…of this…” Prompto gasped, surprising himself.

He wasn’t sure why he said it. Maybe, in the delirium brought on by pain, he thought he glimpsed the princess’s angelic face leaning over him like he had in the academy’s infirmary. Maybe, he didn’t think Ravus would hear him.

Apparently, he had.

Prompto felt every injury distinctly as Ravus dragged his body across the stones of the church and shoved him up against the wall, head smacking so hard that he saw lights flash in his eyes like shooting stars.

There was a ringing in Prompto’s ears. Ravus was shouting at him, flecks of spit landing on his bloodied face in the prince’s rage.

Somewhere in the distance, there was yelling, voices that Prompto thought he knew.

“Prompto!”

“Ravus!”

A roar and a pounding of footsteps followed, and Prompto tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t.

He felt the struggle more than he heard it, body going sideways as hands grabbed at his clothes and arms. Suddenly, he was sliding away from the wall, shoulder pushing against something solid until it wasn’t. There was a flailing of limbs as he felt himself falling, panickily searching for something to hold onto and finding nothing.

In his mind, he knew what had happened—he’d gone out the open window—but there was the fleeting hope that maybe he was imagining all of this, and that his life wasn’t about to end without warning.

Maybe it was a sign from the gods after all. A sign that he wasn’t meant to live.

Some people have said that flying is just controlled falling, but if that was true, Prompto didn’t think he would enjoy flying at all. After the initial terror, a strange, numbing calm came over him, and he was no longer afraid. Prompto knew it was the end.

He squinted, barely able to see past his hooded eyelids, and watched as he plummeted towards the ground below. There was a bright flash of blue light, and he thought that maybe it was the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ that everyone talked about—or maybe he was already dead.

But then Prompto felt something pulling him in, and a stabbing shock shot through his ribs, reminding him that he was still very much alive. He tried to take a breath, but stopped short as the sensation worsened.

He collided with something before he could figure out what was happening, but it wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be considering the three-story drop. The world spun wildly as his body rolled and flipped over the ground, eventually coming to a standstill several seconds later.

Prompto took a shallow inhale. He opened his eyes.

Noctis was staring back at him with a horrified look, holding Prompto like he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go. They were tangled together, lying in the field that made up part of the academy’s grounds.

 _Alive_.

“N—oct—” Prompto coughed from the pressure in his lungs, and it lit a fire under his skin, every inch of him hurting with the effort it took to sit up.

“Don’t move—you’re hurt.” The prince’s hands came to gently frame Prompto’s face, worried frown severe, and the blond winced from the slightest pressure of his fingertips.

“Noct! Prompto!” The shouts drew their eyes to where Gladio was leaning out of the still open window overhead. “Are you guys okay?” His tone was stricken, concerned.

 _He warped to save me_. The realization dawned on Prompto, and he nearly started to cry, but whether it was from relief or disappointment, he wasn’t quite sure.

“Get the headmaster—and Luna!” Noctis yelled back. Gladio was gone from sight faster than Prompto could blink.

“N—no—” He struggled to get the words out, but Noctis wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Shh, don’t be stupid. You need help. Hang on, Prompto. _Hang on_ , do you hear me?!”

The pain was getting to be too much, the edges of Prompto’s vision going black. He focused on Noctis’s face, hopelessly clinging to consciousness, but it was quickly slipping away from him.

Noctis turned frantic. “Prompto—stay with me— _Prompto—_!”

Without meaning to, his eyes fell shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original, Ravus actually throws Prompto out the window, but upon reflecting on it, I don't think he would actually intentionally try to kill Prompto so I made it so he accidentally falls out the window during the scuffle.
> 
> Also, in the original, Prompto goes to the church willingly to confront Ravus, and this interaction is a lot truer to his character (in my humble opinion).
> 
> The song that Yuna and Prompto sing is the source of the title for the fic, "Stand by You" by Alex Goot, whose voice is my HC for Prompto's singing voice. 
> 
> Fanart by @CarrieVogel5 (Twitter)


	11. Mixed Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto is recovering from falling out a window, and as his wounds begin to heal, other problems start to present themselves.

Fluorescent light, harsh and unforgiving, was what Prompto woke to.

“Prompto, I’m sure you’re wonderful, but we have to stop meeting like this,” Lunafreya spoke gently. It was light-hearted, but Prompto had no energy to spare on a smile.

The princess was close by, probably at the foot of his bed. He didn’t bother to keep his eyes open; it was safe to say he was in the infirmary—again.

 _So, I survived_. Why wasn’t he overflowing with gratitude?

There was the sound of a pen scratching against paper, and the rustling of clothes moving, followed by the creak of a plastic chair as Luna leaned forward. He could feel what he thought was her hand come to rest on his thigh. The gesture, meant to be soothing, made him ache from the inside out.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

 _Physically, or emotionally?_ It didn’t matter, the answer was the same on both accounts. _Like shit._

“Okay.” His voice sounded strange in his own ears, scratchy and frail.

“You sustained many injuries from your fall. Broken ribs and nose, a punctured lung, a sprained shoulder, multiple contusions…and I suspect a concussion as well. I’ll be prescribing you some elixirs to take over the next few days to ensure everything heals correctly, but you’ll need to take it easy. Prompto, I have to ask…”

She waited for him to open his eyes, which he did reluctantly.

“…did you mean to do harm to yourself?”

_…what? She doesn’t know what happened?_

He was offended by the question, barely managing to bite back what he wanted to say, which was: _It was_ your _asshole brother who did this to me._

“…no.” She gave a nod, not pressing him any further, and she wrote something else down on the report she was creating.

“You’ll need someone to watch you while you’re healing. Absolutely no physical activity until your follow up next week. Your father—”

“ _No_!” The sudden outburst seemed to startle them both, and Prompto attempted to relax his grip on the sheets before trying to speak again. “No…please, don’t tell my father. I’ll be alright.”

“Prompto, I must insist. You can’t be left unattended, not with injuries of this severity—”

“We’ll take care of him,” a deep voice declared.

Although it was uncomfortable and took more effort than he cared to admit, Prompto pushed himself up so he could see Gladio as he stepped into the room, Noctis not far behind.

Prompto’s composure crumbled when the senior smiled at him, and he sunk down, covering his face with both hands so they wouldn’t see the tears streaming down it.

“You’re not his guardian, Gladio—” Luna was starting to argue, but Noctis stopped her.

“Luna…please.”

Prompto peeked between his fingers, choking on a sob as he surveyed the prince’s expression. His eyes were stormy, jaw set in determination, and Prompto had never seen anything so beautiful and dangerous.

Luna sighed, conceding gracefully. “Very well, but I expect regular updates on how he is doing. No exceptions.”

Despite being small in stature, Luna exuded an intimidating aura, and both Noctis and Gladio nodded solemnly to show their agreement.

“I’ll be back to check on you shortly.” Rising without ceremony, she left the three boys alone.

Gladio was sitting on the edge of the bed before Luna closed the door, but Noctis stayed by the wall, biting his lip as if he was unsure whether to join the two or not.

Prompto wished he would, but he wouldn’t tell him so.

“How are you feeling?” Gladio’s eyes were large with worry, a hand coming up to brush Prompto’s cheek where it was still puffy from swelling.

“Great! Nothing’s worse than the hangover from your One-Two Punch.” He tried to smile, but it pulled at the skin that was already tight on his face, and it ended up turning into a grimace.

There was a sigh from Gladio as his hand fell away, and Noctis crossed his arms over his chest, chin tucking as he leaned against the wall.

“We couldn’t tell Luna or the headmaster the truth about what happened with Ravus,” Gladio murmured. “Ignis said it would get all of us expelled.”

_Oh._

Noctis pushed off the wall abruptly, and Gladio and Prompto’s heads snapped in his direction. The prince’s mouth was turned down, hands now balled into fists at his side.

“So what? That asshole deserves to be punished,” the prince snarled.

“Don’t be stupid. Getting all of us expelled isn’t going to fix anything,” Gladio snapped back.

“Oh, yeah? You think ruining Ravus’s reputation wouldn’t fix things?”

Noctis’s voice was rising and the last thing Prompto wanted was to be caught in the middle of their argument, but he was in no position to leave so he shrunk down, fingers digging into the mattress.

“And yours—and mine— _and_ Prompto’s.” The senior held up a finger with each point, annoyance getting him to his feet.

“Whatever,” Noctis said with a scoff, sweeping angrily towards the exit.

Gladio wasn’t about to let him leave without having the final word. “ _Fine_. Run away from your problems. Typical!” The accusation was met with a slamming door, the aftershocks of Noctis’s rage rattling Prompto to his core, and Gladio threw himself back down in his chair, growling.

Prompto still didn’t comment, too exhausted to voice his own opinion on the matter, which was that he didn’t care what happened to him or Ravus so long as the Tenebraean prince left him alone.

There wasn’t any time to discuss the topic further though. Another person entered the room, this time without knocking, and Prompto felt his entire body clench as Headmaster Ardyn Izunia made his entrance, the man pausing to tip his hat in their direction.

“Pardon the intrusion. Gladiolus, would you mind if I had a word with Mr. Argentum here?”

Prompto tried to plead silently with Gladio using only his eyes— _please don’t leave me alone with him_ —but the upperclassman was already out of his seat, excusing himself obediently, and never saw it. Feeling defeated, Prompto reluctantly returned his attention to the headmaster, trying to keep his expression neutral since a conversation with the man was inevitable.

“Mr. Argentum, you are looking quite a bit livelier since I saw you last.” The headmaster’s smile, while not unkind, wasn’t warm either. “I’m curious—what trouble have you gotten yourself into, my dear boy?” He took several steps, like a coeurl stalking through grass, and Prompto felt the air leave his lungs as he stared back at him blankly.

_Play dumb. Don’t tell him anything._

“Why, if I didn’t know any better, it would seem like your injuries had been inflicted by someone, and not the result of a fall.” He let the comment hang dramatically between them, pausing. “But you wouldn’t lie about that, would you?” The smile on his face never faltered. Headmaster Izunia was more skilled at wearing a mask than even Prompto himself.

_Does he know?_

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” the headmaster continued, stopping to face Prompto. The man bent forward, eyes burning with the look of someone who knew how to keep a secret. But Prompto could keep secrets too.

“I’m pretty clumsy, headmaster. I’ll stay away from windows,” Prompto answered. He took in a shallow inhale, using all of his strength to force a smile.

Pulling his shoulders back, Headmaster Izunia made a dismissive noise. “Yes…you do that, Mr. Argentum.” Then, as if it were an afterthought, he said softly, “Best wishes for a speedy recovery.”

Prompto kept his smile plastered to his face until Headmaster Izunia was safely gone before collapsing into his pillow.

* * *

It wasn’t difficult for Prompto to be persuaded to stay with Gladio. One slip-up that nearly ended with him colliding headfirst into the corner of a table was all it took for Gladio to settle the matter.

“It’s for your own good. I’m taking you home with me.”

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Prompto watched helplessly as the upperclassman gathered an assortment of items from his room under his direction, packing them into the sole suitcase he owned. Noctis was nowhere to be found, and he felt a little guilty about not saying goodbye, but Gladio didn’t seem to share his feelings.

They were on their way to Gladio’s apartment within the hour, and the senior supported Prompto when they got out of the car by snaking an arm around his torso. It sent butterflies scattering through Prompto’s stomach, and he used his injuries as an excuse for why his steps faltered, not because his knees felt weak from the proximity he shared with his ridiculously attractive friend, or for the fact that he could smell his cologne; a rich musk that invoked images of smoked filled rooms with low lighting, a fireplace raging on a stormy day, and two people on a couch in questionable states of undress sharing a blanket, one moaning as the other—

“Prompto?”

“Y-yeah?” He blinked up at Gladio— _sweet gods, those eyes—_ who was staring at him in question. Somehow, he missed what had been said. Probably because he was too busy daydreaming.

“My room, or the guest room?”

“Huh?” Without knowing the context of the question, Prompto was more than a little lost, and his brain flew back to the images it had concocted, a flush shooting across the bridge of his nose.

“Would you rather stay in my room? There’s a guest room, but it’s not as cozy. Haven’t gotten around to putting furniture in it,” he explained.

“With _you_?” Prompto’s voice rose an octave, his embarrassment only made worse by Gladio’s booming laugh as they walked into the building.

“No, I’d sleep on the couch.” When Gladio’s voice lowered to a sultry timber, Prompto could have sworn that his heart stopped. “…unless you _want_ me to sleep with you.”

Prompto couldn’t hold himself up any longer; his legs gave out, but his companion didn’t miss a step, supporting his weight effortlessly.

“Whoa! Prompto, you alright? Do you need to take a break?”

They were entering the elevator, and Prompto could feel every sinew of Gladio’s muscle through the upperclassman’s clothes, and anytime he closed his eyes all he could see was the two of them, sharing a bed. It was too much. His head was hurting, and it was too much.

“I got you. Hang in there,” Gladio was saying. Then Prompto felt his feet lift off the ground, and he was being cradled against Gladio’s firm chest as there was a ding, signaling that the elevator had arrived at the correct floor. It gave him time not to say anything at least, and he was carried to the living room and placed on the couch, a blanket pulled over him with surprising gentleness.

“Sorry—if my joke bothered you.”

Beneath the gruffness was a hint of something soft, a vulnerability that Prompto recognized. Gladio wasn’t looking directly at him, and although his arm was thrown casually over the back of the couch, his body was saying that he was uncomfortable, tense and on edge.

“That night at the party…”

 _No, no, no—not now!_ Prompto tried to take a deep breath, forgetting his broken ribs for a moment, but was swiftly reminded of them.

“…when I kissed you…I, uh…”

The admission made Prompto freeze. It was painful to breathe in or out, so he didn’t do either. Instead, he held air in his lungs and watched Gladio place his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward to run a thumb over the back of one clasped hand, still not meeting Prompto’s gaze.

“I get affectionate when I’m drunk, y’know? But it wasn’t just that. You’re cool, Prompto, and it was shitty of me to do that, but—” he spread his hands, displaying a level of uncertainty that Prompto had never seen in anyone but himself. “—it wasn’t just messing around. Maybe it’s a mistake, but I’m so fucking tired of pretending. _So_ fucking tired.”

 _What…what is he saying?_ Prompto was too afraid to ask, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away, so he waited. For what, he didn’t know.

“Fuck.” Gladio inhaled shakily, hands coming up to dig into his hair. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He made a move like he was about to get up, and Prompto released the breath he was still holding.

“Gladio, I…”

The look that Gladio gave him was more agonizing than the pain in his side. It was something Prompto knew all too well—the fear of rejection, of not being good enough—and it was heartbreaking. His feelings might not have been clear, far from it, but he did know one thing; Gladio didn’t deserve this. Neither of them did.

“I don’t know what I like—girls, guys—any of it,” Prompto confessed. “No one’s ever liked me enough for me to know.” Each word sent fire racing through his chest, but he knew he had to say them. If he didn’t, he never would. “But…I’d like to figure it out.”

When Gladio’s eyes met his, an entirely different kind of flame lit inside of Prompto, one that continued to burn stronger as the senior took slow steps over to him, eventually kneeling at his side.

“If you want, we could try it again. Sober, this time.” There was no pressure, and Prompto’s pulse skipped through his veins from the open invitation.

Gladio’s lips were close, and Prompto could smell his cologne again. Dizzy from the heat and the unexpected longing, he could only nod, eyelashes fluttering shut as Gladio moved in.

The kiss was warm, full lips covering Prompto’s, and it was curious, like a question waiting to be answered. He took in the scratchiness of the upperclassman’s facial hair on his fair skin as he composed his own response, a subtle puckering of his mouth as one of Gladio’s hands cupped the back of his skull.

It was nice, nicer than he thought it would be, but he also didn’t know what to do with the rest of his body, so he just sat there, letting Gladio kiss him. When Gladio finally pulled back, he studied Prompto like he was afraid the boy would run even though he was physically incapable of it.

“Well?” the upperclassman prodded. Prompto thought carefully, trying to organize his thoughts.

“It’s nice. I think…I don’t mind it.” He shrugged in apology, afraid it wasn’t what Gladio wants to hear, but the older boy smiled, shaking his head.

“Good.” Exhaling noisily after that, Gladio nodded as if deciding something before standing. “Right, well, you get some rest. I’m going to try and fix up the guest room for you, but if you need anything, just let me know. Iggy and Noct are going to work on getting your classwork and notes for you.”

It was such a normal conversation that it almost felt like the kiss didn’t happen, and maybe that was the point of it, but it was confusing to Prompto in a way he didn’t like to admit.

 _That’s it?_ _So, does he like me, or…?_

But he allowed Gladio to step away without saying anything else, staring up at the ceiling in contemplation as he listened to the sounds of the upperclassman moving through the apartment.

He wasn’t sure if he was cut out for having feelings. They were way too complicated.

* * *

Later that evening, Ignis and Noctis came over to Gladio’s apartment, gathering in the living room so Prompto would have to do minimal rearranging. He hadn’t moved off the couch since he had gotten there, alternating between sleeping and watching TV. Gladio acted like nothing had changed between them, so Prompto did the same, and his friends elected to sit across from him, insisting that he continue to lie down instead of move to accommodate them.

They brought with them notes from school, which Prompto didn’t bother to flip through. There would be time for that later. For now, they would focus on something more important—their plan moving forward.

“Noct tells me that you all came up with a new plan,” Ignis started, already wearing a doubtful expression. It was clear that he hadn’t approved of what he had heard so far based on the way he glared in Noctis and Gladio’s direction.

“We wouldn’t be talking about this if we had turned Ravus in,” Noctis pointed out. Unlike Ignis, he was deliberately not looking at Gladio, obviously sulking.

“Just drop it, princess.” Gladio’s retort doubled as a threat, and Prompto knew that they wouldn’t get anywhere if the two started fighting, which meant he had no choice but to step in.

“Noct and I agreed to it. Really, it’s okay,” Prompto promised, earning him dubious looks from both Gladio and Ignis.

“Pretending to date? You might as well just punch Ravus if you want to be expelled so badly. Prompto, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” The reassurance from Gladio was quick, but so was Noctis’s indignation.

“ _What_? You’re the one who said it was a good idea!” the prince shouted, arms waving.

Sighing loudly in exasperation, Ignis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Punching Ravus, while satisfying in the short term, may not be wise. Expulsion carries a heavier weight to it than withdrawing from the academy. This new plan _could_ work, but you’re also risking irreparable damage to your reputation. And there’s no telling how long it will take for His Majesty to notice.”

“Hmph. It won’t take that long. You know how people like to talk,” Gladio said, tone bitter. It sounded like he might have had some first-hand experience to back up his claim, but he never elaborated.

 _Anyone want to know how I feel about this?_ Prompto wondered. Apparently not.

“Very well then, if you both are set on it.” Ignis gestured towards Noctis. Noctis looked at Prompto. Prompto looked at Gladio.

_This is going nowhere._

“I mean, it’s a good plan,” Prompto said. “Good in that bad kinda way, you know? I’m sure my dad wouldn’t be happy either, so we’ll be careful, I swear. I’ll make sure I don’t do anything that could ruin Noct’s rep.” It sounded good in his head, but he was met with awkward silence, nobody looking at him.

_Did I say something wrong…?_

“Yeah, about your dad…” Noctis spoke low, and it sounded almost guilty, but Prompto could have just been imagining it.

“Noct,” Ignis said tightly.

“Don’t be selfish,” Gladio added, eyes narrowed.

 _What the hell is going on?_ The tension was so thick that Prompto could feel it choking him, and he looked at each of them nervously.

“We can discuss the arrangement for His Majesty to meet Verstael later. For now, one thing at a time. Prompto, I am sure you are rather tired. We can discuss this further once you’ve recovered.”

It was an abrupt end to the conversation, and it was clear that no one was happy about it, least of all Noctis, who was dragged out of the room and down the hall by Ignis. Worst still, Gladio tried to shrug off the strange interaction, grinning down at Prompto.

“So, need some help getting to bed?”

It was just the two of them again, and Prompto hated how his body reacted—the flip-flop of his stomach, the surge of heat to his groin, even the rush of blood to his face—betraying him.

“I think I got it,” Prompto tried to protest, but Gladio was already helping him up, hooking an elbow in his. They shuffled slowly down the hall, and Gladio hesitated in front of his bedroom door, the guest room only one door down.

“Here, take my bed. I feel bad putting you on an air mattress with your ribs,” he insisted.

The short trip through the apartment had Prompto winded, so he grunted his agreement, following Gladio as he pushed the door open. Gladio eased Prompto onto the mattress, moving to stack the pillows behind him so the blond could recline without laying completely flat.

“You good?”

Prompto gave a weary thumbs up, and Gladio put his hands on his hips, surveying his guest critically.

“I could stay with you, y’know. In case you need something in the middle of the night. Don’t want you falling on your way to the bathroom or anything.” Seeing Prompto’s widening eyes, he chuckled. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to. Hey, I’ll even keep my clothes on.”

The joke made Prompto duck his head, his elicit fantasy coming back to him in vivid detail. “ _Dude_ ,” he whined, then groaned. But Gladio _did_ have a point. He didn’t want to risk hurting himself on accident. Prompto chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking, but it seemed to be the most obvious option. Eventually, he nodded.

“…alright. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

True to his word, after completing his nighttime rituals in the bathroom, Gladio kept his sweatpants and t-shirt on as he climbed into the bed beside Prompto, facing away from him as he curled on one side. He made sure Prompto had an elixir before turning off the lights, and made his guest swear to wake him if he needed anything (“on pain of death,” “ _Not_ funny, Gladio”).

With Gladio snoring lightly beside him, Prompto gazed through the dark and up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But WAIT, this is a Promptis fic, not a Promptio fic!" Yes, you're right. So I guess you'll have to wait and see what happens.
> 
> Safe to say, this plot point with Gladio is completely new, but it has it's own purpose. In the original, Noctis & Co. tell Prompto some startling information while he's in the infirmary, but they haven't yet told him in this version, even though you can tell something is going on behind the scenes. 
> 
> What could it be...?


	12. What's Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio and Prompto have a heart-to-heart.
> 
> Prompto returns to the academy after mentally preparing himself to "date" Noctis.

Prompto wasn’t used to waking up without an alarm, nor was he used to deep sleep, the kind where you wake up slow and languid, body heavy and heart light, but that was exactly what he had done. The elixir must have been potent, because it was as if he had slept for ten years, the aches in his body still there, but dulled, an echo of what they once were. His eyes opened, in no hurry to meet the day, and for a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, but the soft breath of the person sleeping next to him quickly reminded him.

With Gladio. In his bed.

Moving as quietly as he could, he turned onto his side. Gladio had shifted in the night and was now facing him, face relaxed in sleep making him appear younger than he actually was. He carried himself so well that Prompto forgot that he was only a couple years older than him, but he had seen the evidence of the senior’s self-doubt, and it was something that he’d never forget. It made Gladio look vulnerable— _human_.

When Prompto had first met Gladio, he had a short haircut, high and tight, but he had since grown his hair out long and shaved the sides. It didn’t look good on most people, but Gladio wasn’t most people. Absently, Prompto reached out, carefully tucking a loose strand of hair behind Gladio’s ear that had fallen over his cheek.

Gladio’s eyes fluttered, and Prompto froze, hand still suspended in mid-air. He didn’t know what to do when Gladio’s hand met his, fingers intertwining. There were also his honey-gold eyes and smile to take into consideration.

_The real One-Two Punch._

“Hey.” Gladio’s voice was still raspy from sleep, and it did _things_ to Prompto. Things his brain couldn’t understand, but his body did.

He quickly pulled his hand back.

“Good morning!” He tried to sound cheerful and not awkward, but there was no getting around it. This wasn’t a scenario he would have ever imagined outside of his wildest dreams.

“Sleep okay?” Gladio hadn’t moved. He was studying Prompto’s face. That did _more_ things to his body, and Prompto scrambled to get up.

“Yep! Awesome, actually.” It wasn’t a lie for once, and he was pleasantly surprised to feel that he was more sore than anything.

“Take it easy,” Gladio grunted, now pressing himself into a seated position as Prompto hopped up.

Although his legs were still not one hundred percent, Prompto felt that he had enough strength to walk on his own if he took his time. Which was a huge relief, because it meant he wouldn’t have to be pressed to Gladio’s side anytime he needed to go somewhere.

“I’m going to take a shower—if that’s okay,” Prompto announced as he took a wobbly step.

Gladio yawned loudly, stretching his arms overhead. “Need a hand?” he drawled.

Nervous laughter was the best Prompto could manage as he stumbled like a baby anak to Gladio’s bathroom. As soon as he slipped inside, he closed the door behind him and blew out a long breath. He almost locked it to be safe, but it would be just his luck to fall and injure himself again, and if Gladio had to kick the door in to help him he would never live it down.

It felt good to douse himself in hot water, even if the pelting on his skin stung in places. Prompto leaned his head against the cold tile walls and inhaled the warm steam, willing himself to relax. He stood there until the water went cold, and even then, there was still a persistent throbbing in his groin that he was certain would only be made worse the moment he saw Gladio Amicitia smile at him again.

After climbing out of the shower, Prompto got a good look at himself in the mirror for the first time since his fall. There were dark patches of crimson and purple underneath both eyes from where he had broken his nose, which ironically made the blue of his irises even more prominent. One side of his torso was a speckled plum color, no doubt from the formerly broken ribs and internal bleeding, tinged with yellow at the edges, and his shoulder was still shades of blue across the top, most likely from how he had landed on the ground.

_I’m a mess._

He tried not to think about how close he had come to dying as he wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped back into Gladio’s bedroom. Thankfully, Gladio wasn’t waiting for him.

Prompto could hear sounds in the kitchen as he got dressed, throwing on sweatpants and a faded Wiz’s Chocobo Post t-shirt before padding out into the hall. He found Gladio making coffee, and he accepted a mug of it, but not before generously adding milk and sugar that his host had placed on the counter.

“So,” Gladio said after taking a sip of coffee. He was still wearing what he had worn to bed, but he’d thrown his hair up in a loose bun (again, it didn’t look good on most people, but Gladio wasn’t most people), and he perched on a stool beside the counter, one leg half-cocked. “We gonna talk, or what?”

Prompto chugged his coffee to give himself an extra second to process, which was a bad idea in hindsight. The mixture hit his empty stomach like a punch in the gut, nauseating him.

“Talk?” he sputtered, pushing the drink aside. “About what?”

Gladio snorted. “You’re not subtle. I can tell something’s bothering you. So, come on, out with it.”

First, Prompto stared down into his now mostly empty mug, the coffee suspiciously close to Gladio’s skin tone. He cupped his hands around it to keep from picking at his nails, chewing on one lip.

“I don’t know—” He stumbled over the words. “—what I’m doing.” He was blushing, but he guessed that Gladio couldn’t tell due to the bruising on his face. At least there was a silver lining to all of this.

“You and me, you mean?” Gladio surmised correctly, sitting back. There was that casual attitude again, the one that Prompto wished desperately to emulate. It would make his life a million times easier, but it wasn’t part of his nature. “It doesn’t have to be a thing. To be honest, I’m not looking to date anyone.”

The news didn’t make Prompto feel much better, because there was still another glaring problem that needed to be addressed.

“Yeah, okay, but what about me and Noct?”

Gladio lifted one eyebrow with interest, taking another slow gulp of coffee. “You wanna date Noct?”

“N-no!” Prompto blurted instinctively. “I mean, _yes_ —that’s the plan, but I mean—” he combed fingers through his hair anxiously, “—I don’t know _how_. I’ve never dated anyone before. And you, you were…” He stopped, unable to bring himself to admit it out loud.

_You were my first kiss._

It looked like Gladio wanted to laugh, but he was kind enough not to, setting his drink aside carefully. “You’re worried you won’t be able to do it because you don’t know how?”

Prompto nodded frantically, downing the last of the coffee in front of him. _Ugh._

“No problem, I’ll help you,” Gladio offered. It wasn’t what Prompto was expecting, and part of him was glad he’d already swallowed, otherwise he had a feeling he would have choked.

“Wait—what?”

Gladio’s grin was playful, and Prompto was entranced amid his confusion.

“I’ll help you figure out what to do. It’ll be fun,” he claimed before smoothly sliding next to Prompto.

“It’s only _pretend_ though, remember?” Prompto seriously doubted that Noctis would be interested in doing anything for real, but it was clear that Gladio was, by the way the older boy pressed a hand into the small of Prompto’s back.

“Body language is everything,” Gladio murmured low in the blond’s ear. Prompto shivered from the base of his neck to the bottom of his spine, going still. “Just leaning in close sometimes is enough, got it? Getting inside someone’s ‘bubble.’ It feels intimate, right?”

 _R-right_. Prompto didn’t trust himself to speak. He was too focused on Gladio’s hand, which was now trailing to his hip point, fingers pressing lightly to bring him in closer.

“Just touching here and there, longer than what might be considered normal. Staying close.” Gladio’s lips grazed over Prompto’s pulse, and it jumped to meet them as he muffled a whimper. “See? Easy.”

Mouth dry, Prompto swallowed, wetting his lips with his tongue. “How…how’d you learn all this?” he asked, genuinely curious.

It was a relief to him when Gladio pulled away, chuckling. “Practice, mostly.” There was a pause, as if the upperclassman might say more, but instead he laughed wryly. “Any time you want some pointers, just ask.”

With that, Gladio was up and walking over to the fridge, rummaging inside for food. Prompto stared into his empty mug, appetite gone and stomach queasy.

* * *

Ignis insisted on bringing Noctis over to study that evening. Apparently, there was an upcoming test in their Basics of Magic class, and neither Prompto nor the prince were anywhere close to being prepared for it.

“If the plan is to get taken out of the academy, why do I need to study?” Noctis groaned as Ignis spread out pages of a study guide across the living room table.

“Because, Your Highness, until then you are expected to be a model student,” Ignis chided.

Gladio, in the kitchen behind them, made a hand motion that only Prompto could see from where they were seated, pointing first at Prompto and then to Noctis. The senior’s mouth formed words without making a sound.

_Body language._

Prompto frowned, glancing from Gladio over to Noctis. The prince was glaring down at their homework as if to set it on fire with his mind, Ignis already heading into the kitchen to help Gladio make dinner.

“I’ll quiz you both once we’re done eating,” Ignis declared, a warning.

Trying to act casual, Prompto took Gladio’s advice, scooting around the corner of the table to sit crisscrossed next to Noctis on the floor. Their knees bumped, and Noctis looked at Prompto in silent question. He pretended not to notice, putting on a winning smile.

“Come on, dude. We can make this fun.” He wasn’t just talking about the studying, but Noctis didn’t need to know that. Prompto had already had his fair share of being miserable—he figured he might as well enjoy himself as much as possible.

“What, like a game?” Noctis was inquisitive, but mostly skeptical.

“Yeah, exactly! First one to get the answer right gets a point. Whoever wins owes the other—I dunno—dessert or something,” Prompto proposed, allowing his head to tilt closer to the prince’s, finger landing on the first question on their study sheet.

Noctis cleared his throat, but didn’t shift away, and Prompto took that as a good sign. “Alright…sure,” the prince finally agreed.

They sped through their work that way, inside each other’s personal space just like Gladio had recommended earlier, and soon Prompto grew comfortable with the closeness, forgetting why he had initiated it in the first place.

“ _Dude_ , no fair, you already knew that one!” Prompto groaned as Noctis answered the final question correctly to break their tie—one regarding the origin of King Regis’s power.

“Too bad,” Noctis said slyly. “Guess you owe me dessert, huh?” The prince bumped his shoulder into Prompto’s affectionately, still smiling, and when Prompto looked up he met Gladio’s eye again, the senior flashing him a thumbs-up and a smirk.

He felt a huge surge of relief. _Maybe this won’t be so bad after all._

* * *

Gladio waited until Ignis and Noctis left to give Prompto a hard time.

“You’re a quick learner,” he teased, catching Prompto by surprise as he pressed into the blond from behind, hip jutting into him. Prompto’s hand shot out to brace himself against the bathroom counter where he was bent over the sink, brushing his teeth. “But are you gonna be able to do that at the academy with everyone watching?”

“Cu’ id ow’!” Prompto spat out his toothpaste and rinsed it down the drain. “Just how much do I need to _do_ , anyway?”

He turned, but Gladio didn’t back away, and Prompto became acutely aware of the bulge between Gladio’s legs, easily felt through the upperclassman’s sweats.

 _Cool, cool, cool—don’t freak out, he’s doing this on purpose._ With that in mind, Prompto managed to keep his gaze level.

“Enough to be convincing. Wouldn’t hurt to be caught in a compromising position,” Gladio went on to say before his hands came to rest on Prompto’s waist.

It was hard to imagine doing _this_ with Noctis, but for a moment, Prompto let his mind and Gladio’s hands wander. It wasn’t long before they were kissing again. This time, it felt more natural and less embarrassing, and they eventually gravitated towards the bed, Gladio being careful not to hit Prompto’s ribs as they lay down; another elixir had resolved most of the pain, but it was better to be safe.

“This good?” Gladio said after a ragged inhale. It was sort of charming how chivalrous he was being, a stark contrast to his usual tough guy façade.

“Yeah,” Prompto gasped, then moaned as Gladio’s thigh applied pressure between his legs, directly against his—

“Oh?” Gladio sounded pleased. “Now we’re talking.” Amazingly, Prompto was too turned on to be flustered, and Gladio continued to talk over his panting, the senior’s voice sultry and seductive. “So, you can get His Highness all worked up—or pretend to, whatever floats your boat—in-between the stacks at the library, maybe. And just when you think you can’t take it anymore someone will find you. Boom, mission accomplished.”

It was getting harder to focus on what Gladio was saying, the gentle friction overwhelming all Prompto’s senses. Then he had a moment of panic. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to go back after this, that once they crossed this line, they’d be stuck on the other side of it— _forever_.

Everything in Prompto told him he was making a huge mistake.

“Wait!” he yelped.

Gladio stopped immediately, withdrawing like he had touched a hot stove. Burying his face in a pillow, Prompto groaned in frustration.

“Sorry…I just, I can’t—dude, you’re cool, but—” _I don’t want to mess this up._

“It’s fine,” Gladio assured him. If he was disappointed, he did a good job of not showing it. Propping his head in his hand, Gladio studied Prompto again, but now it was as if he were looking through him and not at him, lost in thought.

“…why are you helping me?” Prompto wondered, surprised by his own question.

Gladio’s eyes flitted across Prompto’s face and away, a sadness in them that Prompto wanted to understand.

“I guess part of me feels bad,” he said cryptically. “And then another part of me knows what it’s like to have to pretend, and not having anyone to help you.” The upperclassman looked uncomfortable then, as if he feared he had said too much, and he pushed himself upright. “I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight.” There wasn’t any room for negotiation, but Prompto was sitting up too, a sudden fear of being alone overwhelming him.

“You don’t have to—sleep on the couch, I mean.”

Gladio had his hand on the doorknob, but he looked back at Prompto, indecisive.

“…I know what it’s like to pretend too,” Prompto admitted. “My father—he’s kind of a jerk, you know? I don’t even want to be at the academy, but if I wasn’t, my life would be hell. He’d make sure of it.” 

He almost told Gladio then about Verstael’s phone conversation. It would have been easy to talk to Gladio about it now that they were sharing such personal details about their lives, but something held him back. A stupid sense of obligation to his father? The worry that he’d lose Gladio as a friend? He wasn’t sure exactly, but the timing didn’t seem right, so he held his tongue.

There was a strange look on Gladio’s face, but he turned away before Prompto could interpret it, shoulders bunched.

“There’s someone I like… _liked_ , but my dad wouldn’t allow it, for starters. And it would just complicate things, y’know? At least that’s what _they_ think.” Gripping the doorknob tighter, Gladio shook his head. “Anyway. Good night, Prompto.”

He left after that, and there was a tightness in Prompto’s chest, unrelated to the injuries he had sustained.

That night, he tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable.

* * *

_“How about that dessert?”_

_They were in the academy courtyard, but it was a field, the sun high overhead, and it wasn’t hot. Prompto looked over at Noctis, and he was wearing his uniform._

_It wasn’t a school day though, and the building was far away. It was just the two of them._

_Prompto had the thought that he was happy, and knew it was a foreign feeling. He was lying on his back, no shoes on, and the clouds were technicolor—a rainbow._

_“What do you want?” Prompto asked, and he pulled something out of a picnic basket._

_It was an ice cream sundae, and suddenly they were eating it with two spoons, laughing because it was getting all over them and their faces._

_“You’ve got a little something,” Noctis said, and he leaned in, licking a trail of chocolate ice cream off Prompto’s chin._

_Then they were kissing on the floor of their classroom. A teacher was saying something, and class was in session._

_People started pointing, but Prompto didn’t care. He felt alive—liberated._

_But now they were sitting in Headmaster Izunia’s office, and the king and Verstael were there too._

_Noctis held Prompto’s hand, but wouldn’t look at him. Their parents were saying something, but Prompto couldn’t make any sense of it._

_And it was nighttime, and Gladio was there._

_“I can teach you,” he was saying, but he was speaking to the headmaster._

_Prompto felt annoyed that they were being ignored._

_“Hey!” Prompto said, but no one looked at him._

_He was alone in the room, but it was the field again, and all he could see was the moon._

_“Where are you? Noct?” Prompto yelled. It echoed._

* * *

Prompto gasped awake. It was still dark in Gladio’s bedroom, and he had that post-dream haze about him that made it difficult to determine what was real, but eventually his breaths slowed, and his anxiety ebbed.

_It was just a dream._

He grabbed for his phone on the bedside table and was pleasantly surprised to see a text from Noctis waiting for him.

Noctis  
  
Hey, hurry back, school is boring AF without you  
  


That made him laugh out loud, and he typed a reply, although he wasn’t expecting a response for several more hours.

Noctis  
  
Hey, hurry back, school is boring AF without you  
  
I’m feeling better, so hopefully tomorrow. Miss you too  
  


The ‘miss you too’ might have been a little forward, but they were friends now, right? And soon, they’d be fake boyfriends. Just the thought made Prompto’s anxiety return with a vengeance, and although the sun was not yet up, he was wide awake and soon heading for the kitchen.

He was less surprised to find Gladio already up, as it was a school day. Now that they had spent the weekend together, Prompto could better appreciate how the senior’s uniform hugged him in all the right places.

“Mornin,’” Gladio said, currently in the middle of tying his tie.

“Heya.” Prompto sat at the counter and watched him, wondering what he would do with an entire day alone in the apartment. “I think I’m going to go back to school tomorrow. The elixirs have me feeling brand new,” he explained before helping himself to the leftover coffee Gladio had brewed.

“Yeah, you look a lot better. Don’t think it would be a problem, though Luna will probably wanna see you,” Gladio agreed. “If you need anything, just text me or Iggy, we can always send a car over.” He finished with his tie and grabbed his briefcase off the counter, snatching a bagel as he went towards the door. “How do I look?” he asked, holding his arms out and doing a turn that had Prompto smiling.

“Handsome. Ten out of ten, would cuddle again,” Prompto declared, a little more playfully than originally intended.

Gladio’s grin was enthusiastic. “See? You’re getting the hang of it. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I’ll see ya later.”

“See ya!” Waving goodbye with one hand, Prompto took a sip of his coffee with the other, still smiling to himself once the door closed.

The rest of the day was lazy, with Prompto not bothering to change out of his pajamas, and after about an hour of doing homework and studying like a good student, he gave up and turned on the TV.

It was weird to think he missed waking up in his dorm room, or having breakfast with Noctis in the cafeteria. He even missed Tactics and Arms—or at least the comradery of suffering through Mr. Crescent’s class with Noctis making faces at him any time the teacher turned his back. He was looking forward to practicing with Yuna again after he’d explained via text that he was sorry for not responding to her (“I kinda fell out a window. I’ll tell you the story when I get back!”).

And even though life was crazy, and about to get crazier, he was looking forward to being with his friends again.

_My friends. Who’d have thought?_

Prompto dozed off to the sound of a pre-recorded audience laugh track on some game show, letting his cares fade to black.

* * *

“It is no trouble at all,” Ignis said, opening the car door for Prompto to climb inside.

Prompto did so, adjusting his tie nervously as he slid into the seat next to Gladio, Ignis joining him on the opposite side.

He thought back to what Gladio had said the night before as they were getting ready for bed.

_“You gotta have a little swagger. Keep your head up—look people in the eyes. And for gods’ sake, stop apologizing.”_

He’d immediately apologized out of habit, and Gladio had thrown him onto the bed and tickled him until he was breathless, then waited until he caught his breath to kiss him, taking it away all over again. They’d fallen asleep huddled together, and Prompto had felt good about it.

Today was another story though. He was heading back to the academy to go to class, starting the day off with an exam, and his nerves were making him jittery.

“Yo, stop fidgeting,” Gladio said, smacking at Prompto’s hand, which was busy picking at a piece of skin along his nail bed.

“Right, sorry!”

“Stop apologizing,” he barked, and Prompto immediately turned bright red, recalling Gladio’s diversion tactic from the night before. The flush had Gladio grinning wolfishly, and Ignis arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Prompto clamped his mouth shut and didn’t speak until the car arrived outside of the academy.

“You ready for this?” Gladio asked as the vehicle rolled to a stop. The blond glanced out the window to where students were walking up the steps and through the double doors, his pulse quickening.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he answered.

Together, the three boys left the car and entered the academy, traveling through the crowded entrance and down the equally crowded hallway. Gladio had to pass by Miss G’s classroom on the way to his first period, so they said their goodbyes to Ignis and strolled together, elbows rubbing as they walked.

The irony of it didn’t escape Prompto—just several weeks prior, he would have never walked this close to Gladio in public. A lot had changed.

They arrived at Miss G’s room before the bell, and Gladio looked over at Prompto slyly. “Hey, do you trust me?”

“Huh?” Prompto pulled up short of entering the class, blinking. “Yeah, of course I do, dude.”

Gladio leaned in, mouth coming in dangerously close to Prompto’s face, and heat shot from the top of his head to the tips of his toes faster than he could hiss: “What are you doing?”

“Don’t move,” he murmured, picking a dark hair off the lapel of Prompto’s jacket.

Prompto’s heart was currently in his throat, and he resisted the strong urge to look around and see if anyone was watching them as Gladio slowly took a step back, twirling the hair between his fingertips.

“Good luck on your test, boys.”

_Boys?_

“Yeah, thanks,” came a lackluster response. Prompto couldn’t resist anymore, he turned around, coming face-to-face with—

“Oh, hey Noct!” Prompto squeaked. _Don’t apologize, don’t apologize, don’t apologize_ , he had to repeat to himself.

Noctis was nonplussed, either ignoring or not noticing the severe breach of personal space between Prompto and Gladio.

“You ready for this?” Noctis questioned, and Prompto looked back to where Gladio had been, only to find that he had already left.

“Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Prompto repeated, assuming he was referring to the test.

It seemed like an odd coincidence that the prince and Gladio had asked him the same thing, and maybe it was an omen of what was to come.

There was only one way to find out.

Waiting for Noctis to go in first, Prompto followed him into the classroom and took a seat. Miss G began to hand out their tests, leaving them face-down on the desks while Prompto stared at the back of Noctis’s head. He said a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening, asking for guidance.

_Help me not to screw this up._

It was all he could think to ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just envision Gladio being like Wil Smith's character in the movie "Hitch," and being Prompto's dating coach. Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. More awkwardness ahoy.
> 
> The mention of Prompto wearing the "faded Wiz’s Chocobo Post t-shirt" is a subtle nod to my romantic comedy fic, "Write Drunk, Email Sober."


	13. (Not) Boyfriends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Noctis start pretending to date in earnest, attracting attention. 
> 
> There's just one problem...they can't agree on whether the attention is good or bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! I was a little burned out and took a break, then I got sick and work was crazy hectic, cutting into my writing time. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

“I can’t believe you fell out of a window.” Yuna commented in amazement as Prompto finished telling her the (very edited version of his) story of how he’d landed in the infirmary a second time. They were in her cubicle in Mrs. Leonhart’s room, eager to get back to practicing for the spring show, now only a few weeks away.

Bent over his guitar, Prompto gave a small nod as he continued to tune its strings. “Yep. I’m not very smooth, but I learned my lesson.” _Stay away from Ravus._

His partner was quiet, seeming to survey the sheet music in her hand as Prompto finished what he was doing. When he looked up at her, ready to practice, she smiled a little, but he thought he saw sadness in her eyes.

Eventually, she set the music aside, folding her hands in her lap.

“They came looking for you that day, you know—Gladio and Prince Noctis. I guess when you didn’t show up to Tactics and Arms. I told them where you had gone,” Yuna explained.

Prompto’s stomach dropped, fingers hovering over his guitar as he stared at Yuna in disbelief.

_That means, if not for her, I’d be…_

He swallowed hard, willing himself not to think about it. “Guess that makes you my guardian angel, huh?” Prompto joked instead. He scored a real smile from his partner then, much to his relief.

“Maybe so.”

He began to strum out the chords to their song after that, eager to move on from the memory of falling that he would rather forget, and Yuna let the subject drop.

* * *

Prompto was woefully unprepared for Tactics and Arms.

No high schooler enjoyed getting dressed before class. Bodies were constantly changing at their age, and everyone had insecurities they would rather not draw attention to, and Prompto was no exception.

Usually he’d stand in front of his locker, back to everyone else and eyes downcast as he switched from his uniform into his gym clothes as quickly as possible, but it didn’t look like he’d be able to do that today.

Gladio and Noctis were already there when he squeezed into the locker room, and they seemed to be waiting for him. Shirts off, in just their gym shorts, they sat on the bench directly in front of where he needed to be, gazes turning on him in unison when he walked in.

Their conversation stop-ped when they saw him, leaving Prompto paranoid that they might have been talking about him.

_You gotta have a little swagger. Keep your head up—look people in the eyes. And for gods’ sake, stop apologizing._

“Hey guys, long time no see.” Prompto wore a smile and kept his shoulders back, finger gunning at the two for good measure.

“Hey,” Noctis greeted, eyes flitting over Prompto with familiarity.

“Yo.” Gladio gave a nod of approval, then clapped Noctis on the back before scooting over, gesturing for Prompto to join them. The senior grabbed the shirt slung over his shoulder and began to shrug it on, and Prompto was left with the mortifying realization that he had been left to strip while standing in-between them.

 _My not-boyfriend and my…uh, bro-friend?_ What was Gladio anyway? _Act cool, Prompto._

Shimmying into the space Gladio had left, Prompto opened his locker, sensitive to the fact that both Gladio and Noctis were now watching him. He focused on his breathing, inhaling deeply.

_You signed up for this, remember? Time to pretend._

As if reading his thoughts, Noctis was soon on his feet. Prompto was hanging up his uniform jacket and unbuttoning his shirt when the prince leaned into the locker, close enough to feel his body heat, and Prompto started to sweat instantly. ( _Thanks, teenage hormones.)_ Fingers trembling, he began to fumble with his tie, accidently making it tighter by tugging it in the wrong direction, and without prompting, Noctis came forward, delicate hands reaching to help him.

“T-thanks,” Prompto murmured, allowing Noctis to take over.

“No problem.”

The prince was so close that he could see his individual eyelashes, unfairly long and full. His cologne smelled sweeter than Gladio’s, with floral undertones, and Prompto was reminded of his dream—the two of them sitting in a field, eating ice cream—among other things.

He bit down on his lip, going stock still and praying his body didn’t do anything noticeably embarrassing. The moment was over in a matter of seconds, each one more torturous than the last.

“Wish we didn’t have to wear ties,” Noctis said conversationally, still leaned casually against the lockers.

“Yeah, same,” Prompto commiserated, relaxing somewhat. Blinking, he looked around, surprised he hadn’t noticed that everyone else had already filed out of the locker room, leaving just the two of them.

Him and Prince Noctis, shirtless, less than an arm’s-length apart.

_Oh gods._

“Guess we should go to class,” Noctis added, although he didn’t make any move to do so.

“Yeah, we should.”

It was hot again, Prompto’s mouth unusually dry. He was staring into Noctis’s storm-cloud eyes with wonder, thinking that this was some _very_ convincing acting—even he was starting to believe it. But Gladio _did_ say that getting caught in a compromising position would be the most effective way to get people talking. Maybe he had told Noctis the same thing.

“Hey, hurry up, Crescent is coming!” someone yelled abruptly into the locker room.

Their heads jerked towards the sound of the door slamming open and then closed, and Noctis chuckled, running a hand through his hair idly.

“C’mon, don’t want to get you in trouble on your first day back.” The prince found his t-shirt and Prompto did the same, the silence now charged with an awkward uncertainty.

 _There’s definitely something wrong with me_.

When they finally went out into the gym their classmates were already lined up to take roll, and Noctis and Prompto jumped into the end of the line as Mr. Crescent called their names, then went immediately into the assignment for the day.

“Today we will be working on throws. Don’t forget that the practical exam will be at the end of this week. Mr. Argentum, I trust that His Highness will be able to get you up to speed,” the teacher explained with a dead pan expression.

Prompto spared a nod in the teacher’s direction before following Noctis into the corner of the room, everyone else pairing off automatically, and Noctis immediately adopted an athletic stance, reminding him that the prince was much, much better at this than he was.

“You remember how to do this?” Noctis asked, no offense meant by the question.

“Mostly. It’s been a while.”

With a nod, the prince stepped in, putting his hands on Prompto’s shoulders. “So, when their hands are like this, you’re going to put both arms inside theirs, alright? Then, grab their arm, like this—” He gripped Prompto by the wrist, turning away so that his hips were on the outside of the blond’s, and Prompto felt his heart start racing as their bodies came together. “—then bend, squat, and lift, while pulling them forward.” Noctis did as he was instructing, lifting Prompto off the ground and across his shoulders. “Then you roll them off your hip and flip them over.” The movement was smooth, causing Prompto to land flat with Noctis over him, the prince’s opposite hand coming to press firmly on his chest to keep him from getting up.

They blinked at each other, the same awkward tension from the locker room returning in full force.

“…you wanna try?” the prince asked, checking his shoulder as if remembering where they were.

Prompto, with his hands palm up on either side of his head, felt dizzy even though he was lying down.

_Maybe I’m getting sick again._

His brain was lagging, which made him slow to reply. “Sure,” he eventually answered, sitting up. Noctis took hold of his hand and helped him to his feet.

“Cool. Go ahead and throw me now.”

Following the directions the prince gave, Prompto brought both arms to the inside of Noctis’s like he’d done before, placing hands firmly on his shoulders. “Like this?”

The execution was a bit sloppier, but he tugged Noctis’s arm in front as he turned, hip checking his partner and heaving him through the air, and maybe it was the effort it took for him to perform the throw, but Prompto was thrown off balance at the last moment to send him careening forward, set to land directly on top of Noctis.

“Shit!” he yelped, hands shooting forward on instinct to save himself, but it was too little, too late.

There was a mutual gasp as Prompto’s chest went into Noctis’s, knocking the air out of both of them. Then a groan as they rolled, legs catching as they got tangled.

Prompto squinted one eye open. “Sorry, dude!” He tried to push off at the same time that Noctis reached to grab him, and the result was a comedy of errors that had them falling back again, this time bumping heads as they collapsed on the mat.

“Ow!” Noctis winced, then laughed. He didn’t look angry, just amused, and it made Prompto giggle.

“Sorry again!”

“You’re fine,” he reassured Prompto, grinning as they slowly helped one another up. “I’m pretty hardheaded.”

“Same, dude.” Rubbing at the small knot on his forehead, Prompto kept his eyes on Noctis as he put his hands up.

“Go again?”

There was something in the way his roommate smiled, openly and excitedly, that put Prompto at ease, and he nodded, unable to remember a time that he enjoyed participating in Tactics and Arms.

 _First time for everything, I guess_.

At one point, when they fell again, both rolling to their feet in perfect unison before fist bumping, they laughed to the point of hysterics. Mr. Crescent shot them a dirty look that they both ignored, too caught up in having fun to let it bother them. By the end of the period, they had both perfected their throws, getting into a rhythm—grab, step, toss, roll, repeat. And when the teacher announced that they were free to go to the locker room, they took their time getting up, chatting the entire time.

“Hey, you’re a quick learner,” Noctis commented.

If he could glow, Prompto would have, beaming as wide as his mouth would let him. “Dude, thanks! Everything’s easier with you.”

“Oh yeah?” the prince chuckled before slinging an arm around Prompto’s neck.

His instincts told him to apologize—or duck his head—and he was blushing up a storm, but he didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he let his temple bump against Noctis’s, close enough that if he just turned his head, their mouths would meet.

They walked into the locker room that way, only pulling apart as their classmates came into view, but still lingering nearby. Prompto couldn’t resist sneaking looks at Noctis as they changed next to each other, face still hot from the physical exertion, and only getting hotter.

_This is pretend, Prompto. Don’t get too invested._

But Noctis smacked him lightly on the arm when he caught Prompto looking and winked, and it did _things_ to him—different things than when Gladio looked at him the same way. It was like he was going to be sick, but also walking on air, and he was floating _and_ falling, and it was awful and wonderful—all at once.

Noctis Lucis Caelum had his heart on a string, and the prince was pulling it tighter and tighter, but pretty soon, Prompto was afraid that string it would snap, and he wasn’t sure what would happen when it did.

* * *

“ _What_?”

Prompto was beyond mortified by Noctis’s suggestion, but the prince wasn’t backing down, thumbs hooked lazily in his belt loops as they loitered outside the cafeteria doors.

“There’s no wall in hell—” Prompto stopped, lowering his voice as he received a glare lobbed at him by a passerby. “There’s no way I can walk into that room holding your hand. You know how many people would want me dead?”

Noctis’s deadpan expression told Prompto that, no, he _didn’t_ know, nor did he care.

 _Must be nice being able to do whatever you want without worrying about the repercussions. Another major perk of being royalty_ , he guessed.

“More than usual! _All_ of them, in fact.” Prompto chewed on his bottom lip, shoving his hands obstinately in his jacket pockets as if to hide them. He knew he had issues with anxiety, but he had reached a whole new level where he’d rather jump off a cliff with spikes at the bottom than do what his fake-boyfriend had asked.

“It’s the fastest way to convince people,” Noctis said, and Prompto hated that he was right. Undoubtedly, Gladio would agree, and Prompto could practically see the upperclassman’s grin in his mind at the thought.

“Can’t you just—I don’t know, put your arm around my shoulder or something? Baby steps?” Prompto begged.

The prince was smiling, and Prompto could barely stand to look at him. _Is this a big joke to everyone except for me?_

“Fine, but you owe me one then.”

It was a compromise that Prompto was quick to accept until Noctis did as the blond had proposed, slinging an arm around him and pulling him in close. Close enough to see that the prince’s eyes were now a pale blue, cheek-to-cheek. Prompto would have preferred to do a countdown, or at least have a minute to mentally prepare himself to push through the double doors, but Noctis didn’t allow him the courtesy, shoving through them without any semblance of ceremony.

Noctis walked with a purpose, steps directed towards the beginning of the line, and Prompto kept his head down, afraid his tendency to blush would turn into a beacon for attention. He could sense each of the prince’s fingers digging into his arm, guiding him fearlessly.

There were murmurs of conversation and eyes that followed them, and Prompto thought that dying after falling out of the chapel window would have been a mercy compared to the blatant scrutiny from his peers.

_This is harder than I thought it would be._

“Relax, no one is going to do anything,” Noctis whispered.

 _So self-assured—and so wrong_.

Prompto had no explanation for why he turned around at that moment. It seemed that it was the cruel hand that fate had dealt him, as he found Ravus Nox Fleuret eviscerating him with hardened eyes from one of the round tables near the wall. To make matters worse, the Tenebraean prince was getting up, stare unwavering, and Prompto had a moment of very real panic accompanied by intense nausea.

“Bathroom,” Prompto blurted without further explanation, pushing Noctis away and bolting out of the cafeteria. He didn’t bother to look and see if Noctis was following, but he knew that Ravus was by the quickening footsteps, and that was all that currently mattered.

The nearest bathroom was around the corner, near one of the main staircases, and Prompto went there now, hoping to lock the door behind him, but wasn’t quick enough in finding the deadbolt, Ravus pushing it in such a way that Prompto lost his footing and slammed back into the wall.

 _Not again_ —not _again_ —!

 _“_ Argentum,” Ravus hissed, body language more ragged than any razor blade and threatening violence. “I told you that if you ever came near Prince Noctis or my—”

“Ravus.”

The name, spoken with concentrated rage, was like shattered glass in Prompto’s lungs. He glimpsed Noctis over Ravus’s shoulder, a fist pressed against the door to keep it open, and the Tenebraean prince made a slow turn to face him. Although Ravus was a head taller than the Lucian prince, Noctis commanded the space like a star, his gravity drawing them irresistibly in.

“Your Highness.” The way Ravus used the title was as if he were wielding a weapon, but Noctis didn’t flinch.

“Are you threatening my boyfriend?”

“Your _what_?” Ravus’s surprise seemed to outweigh his anger, at least temporarily, and he looked to Prompto in genuine bewilderment.

Noctis’s ease with the term was convincing, and it made Prompto thankful for the wall behind him as he slumped down. “Did I stutter?” he drawled. “You already pushed him out of a window. Back off.”

“You are betrothed to Lunafreya,” Ravus pointed out, anger returning in earnest. “Yet you’re messing around with _this_ rabble?”

“Watch it,” Noctis snapped, tone low and tight, eyes flashing lightning.

“You have insulted me and my family for the last time,” Ravus was saying.

In all honesty, Prompto wasn’t sure who threw the first punch. All he knew was that Ravus and Noctis were suddenly lunging at one another, grabbing for each other’s throats as they barreled into him and onto the bathroom floor in the process.

“Hey! Stop it!” Prompto tried to yell, but it was evident that neither of the royals were inclined to listen, shouts and curses echoing in the small space. Not sure what else to do, he tried to grab for Noctis, but ended up getting an elbow to the face instead, lip splitting on contact.

“Shit!” Prompto cursed as blood splashed onto the tile.

At the same time, Noctis got kicked in the gut and wheezed as he skidded backwards into the edge of a stall, Ravus already on his feet to deliver a second blow.

To Prompto, it was pure luck that he and Ravus seemed to line up perfectly in that moment, and his hands shot out, repeating the move that he and Noctis had practiced continuously in Tactics and Arms: grab, pull, lift, throw. When it succeeded in tossing Ravus through the air, Prompto’s hands shot up to cover his mouth and muffle a surprised gasp, watching in disbelief when the surly prince crashed into one of the sinks and went limp.

Slower to recover from the assault, Noctis wearily rose. One upright, he reached to touch the pocket of swelling beneath his eye that was already forming from one of the punches that had connected with his face.

“You good?” he asked, scanning Prompto.

He allowed Noctis to run a thumb gently along his bloodied lip, concern all over the prince’s face.

_He called me his boyfriend—to Ravus, of all people._

“Y-yeah,” Prompto said, but he couldn’t meet Noctis’s eyes. “That was a dangerous move.”

“I’ve gotten worse from Gladio,” Noctis claimed, completely missing Prompto’s point. “Besides, I wasn’t about to let him hurt you again. Why didn’t you stay in the cafeteria? He wouldn’t have done anything there.” There was a frown on Noctis’s face now, and Prompto rubbed at the back of his neck, unable to put his feelings into words.

The target on his back had just gotten bigger. There would be no assuaging Ravus now.

“There’s no way he won’t report this to Headmaster Izunia,” Prompto thought out loud.

“If he does, I’ll have your back,” Noctis promised. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

It didn’t escape Prompto’s notice that Noctis put his arm around him again, and the blond felt that he should tell his friend that he didn’t need to pretend when no one was watching, but the closeness was comforting, so he let it slide.

* * *

It was in World History that Prompto got called to the headmaster’s office. Considering that Ravus didn’t show up for the class, he figured it was only a matter of time, but it was still nerve-wracking, nonetheless. He made an extra effort to smile at Ignis and Gladio when they gave him questioning expressions, belatedly realizing how it would look with his busted lip, but managed to maintain his calm exterior until he made it into the hallway. He hadn’t mentioned to them what had happened yet, figuring it was better for them not to worry.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t drag his feet all the way to the third floor, stalling outside the doors that he knew would take him into Headmaster Izunia’s study.

_Better to get it over with._

Knocking once, he listened for the confirmation to enter, and after receiving it, tried to keep his head high as he yanked on the Ifrit-head knockers. It shouldn’t have been a surprise for him to find Noctis already there, situated in one of two leather chairs in front of the headmaster, but it smoothed out some of the worries that had been rising to the surface of Prompto’s mind.

“Mr. Argentum, please take a seat,” the headmaster instructed from where he sat behind his desk. It was hard to read the man’s mood based on his expression, and while his tone wasn’t disapproving, it wasn’t friendly either.

Prompto made no protests as he did as he was told, sparing one look in Noctis’s direction beforehand. The prince’s eye was already turning black, skin pulling tight from the swelling, but he was still ridiculously handsome.

_Some guys have all the luck._

“Perhaps you two would care to explain your side of the story. As Mr. Fleuret tells it, you two assaulted him; however, there were no other witnesses.”

“That’s bull—” Noctis gripped the armrests, words rushing out of his mouth, and Prompto cut him off before he had the chance to get them into more trouble.

“—not entirely true, sir.”

Prompto could feel the full weight of Headmaster Izunia and Noctis’s attention resting on him, and he inhaled as he organized his thoughts.

“Ravus and I…we’ve had run-ins in the past, and—”

“So, you _admit_ to having physical altercations?” There was an arched eyebrow from the headmaster as he leaned back in his chair, hands folding in his lap.

“N-no, sir, what I mean to say is, we haven’t ever really gotten along, and—”

“And Ravus doesn’t like the fact that we’re together since I’m supposed to marry his sister,” Noctis interjected, still stiffly holding onto his chair like it might give out from under him at any moment.

Headmaster Izunia donned a peculiar expression then, sitting up like a coeurl about to strike. It made Prompto think he might dive across the desk and pounce on the prince, which made for a funny mental image.

“Together?” Every syllable was emphasized as if they were their own words, the man’s eyes narrowing. “As in…?”

Prompto cringed inwardly, unprepared for what he knew was coming.

“I’m gay, headmaster. And Prompto is my boyfriend.”

It was a flawless delivery on Noctis’s part— _he’d make a killer actor_ —and it wrenched Prompto’s insides so hard that they wanted to become his outsides. Another mental image materialized in Prompto’s mind of his soul leaving his body, just like in the cartoons he used to watch as a kid. Nothing stirred in the office, and he was almost certain that nobody breathed. When Headmaster Izunia finally moved forward, hands flattening on his desk like he was about to push it away, Prompto swallowed hard, bracing himself.

“I see.” There was a longer pause from the headmaster after that, not knowing how to follow up the bomb-drop of a statement from the crown prince. “I will be arranging a meeting with you and your parents as soon as their schedules allow. Until then, do keep out of trouble, won’t you? I would hate for you to make any _hasty_ decisions.”

The last part seemed to be for Prompto alone, as Headmaster Izunia made and held eye contact with him, and the student felt his fingers begin to drum over his thighs with nervous energy.

“You are dismissed,” the headmaster finally announced.

Prompto didn’t think he had ever moved so fast, and he almost forgot about Noctis once they were free, spinning in a tight circle in the hallway as he waited for the prince to emerge.

Neither of them spoke until they piled into their dorm room on the second floor, Prompto taking a gasping breath once they turned the lock.

“Sweet Six, I thought for sure we were going to get expelled,” he whined, placing his forehead against the wall.

“My dad won’t let that happen,” Noctis boasted.

“Won’t let that happen to _you_ , maybe! Did you ever think I might not want to get kicked out of here?” Prompto whirled around, pointing a finger at Noctis. “Dude, that was hella reckless, and you know it! Ravus _hates_ me, _and_ you. Why would you tell him that we’re dating?”

“Why does it matter? The goal is for everyone to know,” Noctis growled, instantly irritated by Prompto’s defensiveness.

“No,” Prompto retorted before jabbing his finger into Noctis’s sternum. “The goal is for your _dad_ to know, not everyone, right?”

“Well, mission accomplished. You’re welcome, looks like I did your job for you,” the prince spat, kicking off his shoes before climbing onto the bottom bunk and pulling out his phone. “Besides, I don’t see why you aren’t thanking me. I saved you from that asshole—twice.”

“What?!” Prompto blubbered, indignant. “I thought Ignis said we had to be careful about your reputation? Is this just some game to you?” He was surprised to find himself yelling, something he never did, and Noctis’s nonchalance was only adding fuel to the growing fire. The attitude that he was just some pawn to be used for another’s benefit was an idea that he was quickly tiring of.

“That’s rich, coming from you. You’re the one who said you’d do this to get your dad some sweet business deal with mine,” Noctis said while scrolling through his phone, not even bothering to look in his roommate’s direction.

“I never—I don’t— _you_ —aaaaaaah!” Prompto seethed, pulling at his hair in frustration. “You _suck_!”

The final straw was Noctis flipping Prompto off, still not making eye contact.

“Maybe, if you cared about someone other than yourself for _two_ seconds, you’d realize that I’m nothing like you!” Prompto yelled, wrenching the door handle so that the door slammed open.

He was halfway down the hall before it closed, fuming like never before. In the back of his mind he knew that he was going to make a stupid decision, but for once, he didn’t care. All he wanted was something—or someone—to ease this hurt.

The text message was rushed, and he didn’t wait for an answer.

Gladio Amicitia  
  
**Today** 02:15 PM  
meet me in the library ASAP  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in entirely new territory here compared to the original, although there are echoes of the bathroom scene and meeting in the headmaster's office in the first version. I'm excited to take y'all in this new direction ;)


	14. Winging It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto learns the truth that his friends have been hiding. 
> 
> Prompto and Verstael are called to the Citadel by King Regis.

Gladio found Prompto pacing back-and-forth between the stacks of the academy library, biting on his already pathetically short nails, and he stopped a few feet away to watch the freckled freshman with folded arms.

“Where’s the fire, blondie?” he murmured, keeping his tone low. It was a library, after all.

Prompto’s eyes were wide and wild as he pivoted, a redness to his cheeks that could have been from embarrassment, anger, or a mix of both.

Gladio’s bet was on both.

“Sorry, I just—Noctis is—he’s— _ugh_!” Prompto was gesticulating wildly, voice carrying over the shelves.

“Shh,” Gladio hissed, looking around in case the librarian was lurking anywhere nearby. Not finding her, he stepped in, putting hands on Prompto’s shoulders to bring him to stillness. “Trust me, I _know_ , alright? Just calm down and tell me what happened.”

Groaning, Prompto let his head thud against Gladio’s sternum, arms naturally coming to wrap around the senior’s torso. Gladio felt like a fortress, the relationship they had forged over the last week helping Prompto tame some of the emotion that was running wild through his heart.

“He…he’s so confusing, y’know? Like, he wanted to hold my hand, and I convinced him to just do an arm around my shoulder, which was cool and all until Ravus saw. So, I kinda sorta freaked out, and ran to the bathroom, and then Noctis _punched_ him, and _he_ punched Noctis, and I _threw_ him—oh my god, I forgot about that—and—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” came Gladio’s chuckle, a hand coming up to run through Prompto’s hair soothingly.

“Alright, so, things went down with Ravus. That explains the lip. What else?”

“He freaking _told_ Headmaster Izunia!” he whined into Gladio’s shirt, now clinging to his jacket as if for dear life.

Gladio looked around again before pulling Prompto into a secluded corner to sit by the window. “Told Headmaster Izunia _what_ , exactly?” he wondered. His eyebrows furrowed severely as he studied Prompto, taking in the small bundle of anxiety that was currently bouncing on the bench seat in front of him.

“Told him that we’re— _you know_.”

Gladio did a slow blink, and Prompto grimaced before linking two fingers together and tugging.

“Fucking?” Gladio supplied, and despite the apparent seriousness of the situation, it was obvious that he was biting back a grin.

“Ew, no!” Prompto yelped, appalled. “ _Dating_. Noctis said that he was gay and that I was his boyfriend, and now the headmaster is going to tell our parents, and I have no idea what’s going to happen—plus Ravus told Headmaster Izunia we got in a fight, and, and—” Prompto buried his head in his hands, a sob breaking loose, and Gladio reached for him in alarm.

“Hey, hey, easy Prompto, it’s going to be fine!”

Now that he was starting to spill his concerns, Prompto found that he couldn’t stop, and he moaned into Gladio’s hair as the senior embraced him. “My dad is going to _kill_ me! The only reason he lets me take music and photography is because I do what he wants, and I really, _really_ screwed things up this time.”

“We’ll figure it out, don’t worry,” Gladio promised. His firm hand was running up and down Prompto’s back in steady waves, and the movement gave the blond something to focus on as he attempted to slow his breathing.

It felt nice, being held like that, and Prompto leaned all the way into it, tilting his head up. Taking the cue, Gladio’s head came down to meet his, and their lips found one another.

Whatever rhythm Prompto’s breath had found was immediately destroyed when Gladio’s tongue slid into his mouth. Heartbeat erratic, he closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of the deepening kiss—warm and sweet, the senior’s facial hair tickling his cheek adding another layer of texture.

“Prompto,” Gladio rumbled in his sexy tenor, and Prompto’s heart and growing erection jumped to attention as he leaned back on the library bench, pulling Gladio on top of him. “Here?” the upperclassman laughed, fingers crawling down to palm in-between Prompto’s legs.

There was a gasp as the blond bucked his hips eagerly, the rational voice in the back of his head silenced by Gladio’s satisfied hum as he unbuttoned Prompto’s pants.

 _What are you doing?_ it was trying to say. _You don’t love Gladio._ But that was the last thing on Prompto’s mind, his body now speaking for him, and it was saying one thing: _Yes_.

Any other reservations he might have had died when Gladio’s hand gripped him, his own inexperience painfully apparent in the way his cock pulsed from the slightest of contact. It was going to be quick, but that was probably for the best, as he was sure to regret this later, especially when he went back to his room and saw—

“Having fun?”

The understated question cut through the little remaining space between Prompto and Gladio, pulling them abruptly back into reality, and although the freshman was clearly the smaller and weaker of the two, he pushed Gladio away with such force that the upperclassman was sent sprawling back in the corner of the window seat.

Noctis, standing only a few feet away, had the same look he had when he’d confronted Ravus in the bathroom, except now it was meant for Prompto and Gladio.

_Shit._

“Yeah, actually, what’s it to you?” Gladio wiped his mouth with the back of one hand as Prompto fumbled with buttoning his pants. Never one to back down from a challenge, it was clear that he intended to establish the fact that he thought they’d done nothing wrong. Unfortunately, Prompto didn’t share his sentiments, the guilt already crashing down on him so that his whole body folded in on itself.

Curling his arms around his knees, he peeked over the tops of them at Noctis. The prince’s jaw was set, mouth twisted in an angry frown.

“That’s my boyfriend that you’re making out with,” Noctis said coolly, and Prompto thought that he’d never get used to the phrase ‘my boyfriend’ being used in reference to him, even if it was only pretend.

“ _Fake_ boyfriend,” Gladio corrected. There was a flash of something in Noctis’s eyes as his composure cracked, and the prince balled his fists and squared up as if he intended to fight. Gladio didn’t so much as tense, a testament to how little the threat bothered him, and Prompto could see the rage flare in the prince’s pale eyes at not being taken seriously.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Gladio? You told me to not get attached, but then you’re—” Noctis gestured at them both, and Prompto couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut. He needed the room to stop tilting, his heart beating so fast that he thought it might burst.

_Why does this hurt so much? None of this is real._

“Does he know?” Noctis growled. The question created an immediate shift in Gladio’s demeanor, the upperclassman standing so quickly that for a second Prompto thought he’d decided to fight after all.

“ _Don’t_. You’re not innocent in this. None of us are.” It was whispered, but powerful, and Prompto looked between him and Noctis, desperate to know what they were referring to.

“What’s going on?”

Together, Noctis and Gladio turned to him, and their pity was more alarming to Prompto than their anger. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t like the answer.

“It…was a setup from the beginning,” Noctis said, head lowering. “My dad—he asked all of us to get close to you, because he had a feeling your father was up to something. He wanted us to report back to him as soon as we knew anything.”

Prompto listened, unaware that his mouth had fallen open. _This is a dream, right? This has to be a dream_. It doesn’t make any sense.

“And yeah, Lunafreya _is_ supposed to marry me, but me trying to get kicked out of school wasn’t really a thing, until…” Noctis exhaled noisily, hand coming up to grab the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Prompto. After I got to know you, I didn’t want to do it anymore, but I didn’t have a choice, you know? None of us did.”

_None of us…?_

Prompto glanced over at Gladio, who was busy inspecting the backs of his knuckles and wouldn’t meet his gaze. It hit him then that what he had feared all along—that they didn’t really want to be friends with him—was in fact true, and everything that he thought he knew was now being brought into question.

Ignis’s hospitality.

The nights spent with Gladio.

Noctis’s affection.

His own feelings towards the prince.

“We were just following orders,” Gladio murmured, to which Noctis threw his hands up, clearly not convinced.

“Nobody told you to mess with Prompto behind our backs. Is this payback for Ignis? Is that why?” He stopped again, voice trembling with emotion.

The fight seemed to go out of Gladio the moment he heard Ignis’s name, and he moved backwards until his legs hit the edge of the seat, letting his knees give out so that he landed on it with a shudder, but Prompto wasn’t concerned with their bickering, their barbed words no longer processing as they faded into the background.

All he knew was that everything had been a lie, part of a bigger plot to find out what his father had been up to, and that truth gutted him, more agonizing than any injury or illness to date, leaving Prompto with no other option.

_I have to get out of here._

He was running before he knew it, his body once again taking over now that his mind had failed him.

“Prompto, wait!” Noctis called after him, attempting to follow, but Prompto was fast.

He’d been running his whole life.

His feet took him up, up, up, to the third floor, and then higher, all the way to the roof, the same spot where he had first learned Noctis could warp. It seemed so long ago, even though it had only been several weeks. They’d gone from strangers, to friends, to fake lovers in such a short amount of time, and now?

Now, Prompto had no idea what they were.

Draping himself over the stone wall, Prompto nuzzled his face against it, reveling in how it hurt, but still a far cry from his emotional pain. He was alone again, something he had grown used to throughout his life, but after meeting Noctis and the others he had forgotten.

There was an aching emptiness beneath his ribcage now, like his body was attempting to tear itself apart from the inside. He couldn’t remember ever experiencing the feeling before, and he assumed that he had just grown numb to it over time.

Time heals all wounds—or so they say, but Prompto wasn’t sure if he would ever recover from this.

He stayed there, eyes closed, trying to block out the nightmare that had become his life.

* * *

Prompto was nearly back to his dorm after having stayed out all day, and he had his fingers crossed that Noctis wouldn’t be there when he got back. If he was, he intended to leave again. He’d sleep on the floor of the chapel if he had to, but there was no way he’d spend another moment alone in a room with the prince.

There were text messages from Noctis and Gladio in his inbox, but Prompto was ignoring them, not mentally ready for more confrontation, but it was much harder to ignore a phone call, especially when he saw it was from his father.

 _Sure, why not? This day is already as bad as it can get_ , he thought before answering tiredly.

“Hello?” He put his key in the lock, relief intermingling with disappointment when he saw that Noctis wasn’t inside the dorm.

“What the _hell_ were you thinking _?_ ” Verstael’s voice came across the speaker like a slap in the face, but Prompto didn’t feel any remorse.

_Well, that’s something at least._

“What do you mean?” Prompto wondered. _You’re going to have to be more specific._

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy _,_ ” his father was snarling. “You assaulted the Prince of Tenebrae, _and_ you’ve been fornicating with the crown prince?”

Hearing it from his father’s mouth was like ripping the scab off a still healing wound, and Prompto stammered as he tried to defend himself. “W-what, no, that’s not—”

“I swear to the gods that if you ruin everything I have been working towards with your foolish actions, you will rue the day you—”

Prompto pulled the phone away from his ear as he took a shaky breath. His mind was able to fill in the blanks anyway, as it wasn’t the first time Verstael had threatened him. When he put the phone back up to listen, his father was still speaking, none the wiser.

“—we will be at the Citadel tomorrow night, and you will be on your absolute best behavior, or so help me, I will embarrass you in front of everyone. Do you understand?”

_The Citadel? Tomorrow?_

“…yeah,” Prompto said, not willing to ask his father to repeat himself.

“Yes _sir_ ,” Verstael snapped.

“Yes sir,” he repeated unenthusiastically.

“I will pick you up first thing in the morning. _Don’t_ make me wait.”

With that, Verstael hung up, and Prompto locked the door, finally clicking on Noctis’s text message. He figured he might as well since his life as he knew it was over.

Noctis  
  
**Today** 3:01 PM  
Where are you?  
  
Please talk to me  
  
I swear it's not what you think  
  
5:15 PM  
The headmaster called our parents  
  
My dad wants me home tonight  
  
See you tomorrow?  
  
6:23 PM  
Call me  
  
Prompto, please  
  
7:07 PM  
Dad invited you and your father over tomorrow night to talk  
  
Please call me  
  
I can explain  
  


It was tempting. Even after everything, Prompto still wanted to talk to Noctis, and he waffled between punching in the prince’s number and throwing the phone across the room. Gladio’s text message was less telling.

Gladio Amicitia  
  
**Today** 3:11 PM  
Hey, I’m really sorry how this all went down. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.  
  


Prompto sank onto the floor to lay on his side, lacking the strength it took to go the extra three steps to the bed. Staring blankly at the wall, he let his thoughts drift away from Noctis and Gladio, phone slipping from his hand to clatter on the ground.

_I don’t know what to believe anymore._

He considered praying for a miracle, but then remembered that he’d gotten pushed out a window the last time he had. Ultimately, he did nothing, and was on the verge of sleep when there came a gentle rap on the door, so light that he thought it was a part of his dream.

But then it happened again, louder this time, and a voice followed it.

“Prompto?” The Tenebraean accent was immediately recognizable, and Prompto shot up, seized by the fear that Ignis had come to yell at him. “It’s Ignis. I come in peace. Could I have a word?”

Prompto hesitated, his knee-jerk reaction to turn him away, but Ignis had only ever been kind to him, which made it even harder to believe that the upperclassman would wish him any harm, even considering what he knew now.

The seconds dragged out as Prompto crept to his feet, still debating. It was Ignis’s retreating footsteps that finally spurred him into making a decision, and he unlocked the door tentatively, pulling it open a crack.

“Yeah—come in,” Prompto said, drawing Ignis’s attention so that he turned around. The senior smiled, approaching in the way you might approach a wounded animal, hands in front of him.

When he made it to the door, Prompto retreated inside, sitting in his desk chair while Ignis took the bed.

They sat in silence for a minute, as if neither of them was sure where to start. Then, Ignis placed his elbows on his knees and bent forward, hands clasped, breaking the ice.

“I heard from Gladio and Noct. It seems the cat’s out of the bag.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Prompto replied. He tucked one leg under him, finding a broken nail to pick at.

“Needless to say, things were handled poorly all around,” Ignis continued. “And for that, I apologize.” His voice was methodical as it always was, practicality prioritized above emotion. Prompto envied his ability to compartmentalize. “I am sure you have questions.”

He did, but they seemed pointless now. It wouldn’t change the fact that he had been their pawn from the beginning, merely a means to an end.

“Were we ever really friends?”

Maybe it was selfish, but it was the one thing that Prompto would miss most—the companionship—and he needed to know whether any of it had been real.

A smile played across Ignis’s lips. “You caught us all by surprise, you know. You’re rather charming for a so-called ‘Niff bastard.’ Certainly, I believe we were friends, and still could be given the chance.”

Curious, Prompto lifted his head, squinting at the boy before him, unsure what to make of what he was saying.

_Is this him doing damage control? He could just be lying again to get me to cooperate._

“What…what do you guys want from me?”

“His Majesty has reason to believe that Verstael Besithia is engaged in illicit activities against the Crown. It would be beneficial if you could help us obtain proof of that.”

It would be easy to tell Ignis what they wanted to know, which was that he knew his father _was_ up to something, but now it just felt like he was giving in. Resentment could be a powerful motivator, and Prompto knew that earning their trust wasn’t enough—not anymore.

They would need to earn his.

“What’s in it for me?” Prompto wondered, his other leg coming up so he could sit cross-legged.

“Beg your pardon?” It seemed like Ignis hadn’t taken Prompto’s wishes into account, and he was now forced to reevaluate, a hand coming to rest over his mouth to hide a frown.

“Well, you guys used me. Why should I trust you? Plus, if my father gets in trouble, I’ll not only be kicked out of school, I’ll probably be kicked out of Insomnia entirely. So…yeah, why would I help you if I don’t get something out of it?” Prompto was embarrassed at how demanding he sounded, even if he had every right to, and he observed with trepidation as Ignis cross one knee over the other in thought.

“Very well. What is it that you want?” the senior asked curiously.

Prompto hadn’t yet gotten that far, and he scrambled, unsure of an answer that would satisfy him.

 _I want things to go back to the way they were_. But that was all but impossible.

“I want to be able to trust you guys,” Prompto decided. “I don’t want to be wrapped up in all of this—whatever _this_ is. All I ever wanted was to play music and do photography and make it through high school without getting beaten up.” He laughed bitterly. “But I can’t even do that.”

Ignis said nothing, only kept watching him with that inscrutable gaze.

“I want to know why Gladio pretended to be into me.” Prompto’s voice cracked. “And why I feel like shit over a relationship that wasn’t even real.”

“Ah, yes. Noctis did mention he found you two in a…compromising position.” Ignis shifted uncomfortably, his frown no longer hidden. The exhale that followed his statement was long, as if he wanted to expel every last particle of air from his lungs before breathing anew. “While I know that irreparable damage has been done, perhaps I can shed some light on the situation. You see, Gladio and I have something of a history.”

“I know, I know, you’ve been friends forever and you’re both in Noct’s service, I _get_ it,” Prompto grumbled, rubbing at his eyes before tears had a chance to escape.

“That’s…” Ignis wet his lips. “…not the kind of history I am referring to. I mean—romantically.”

Prompto gaped, a hand freezing in place over one eye as he stared with the other. “Wait— _what_? For real?” He quickly recapped some of his previous conversations with Gladio, piecing clues together to complete the picture that he was forming in his mind.

 _“I’m so fucking tired of pretending.”_ Some of Gladio’s bitterness made sense now, as did why he had found the two pressed together in the kitchen on the night of the party.

“We were around your age when it started, but unfortunately, our parents were not supportive when they found out, and I told Gladio that I believed we needed to focus on our service to Noctis and not on each other—that a relationship would just get in the way of doing our duty.”

Gladio and Ignis— _together_. In Prompto’s mind, it was a perfect match, but Ignis only looked remorseful.

“I’m not sure if he ever forgave me for saying so,” he admitted. It was the first time Ignis had ever seemed timid, and Prompto was amazed to find that despite everything, he felt sincerely sorry for him. “In any case, it seems Noctis shoulders some of the blame for what happened between us, and Gladio merely wants to protect him from experiencing the same thing.”

Prompto’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. _Experiencing the same thing…?_

Ignis shook his head, chuckling at Prompto’s expression. “Falling in love with the son of your father’s enemy would surely put a strain on one’s relationship, you see.”

“Falling in love…?” Prompto squeaked in disbelief.

“Although I have no doubt that Gladio’s affection for you was sincere,” he quipped. “He tends to love recklessly, without any thought for how it might hurt others in the process, but Noctis is quite the opposite, reserved to the point of seeming aloof. It’s been years since he’s opened up to anyone like he has with you, and frankly, it terrifies all of us.”

If this was part of the game they were playing, it was unnecessarily cruel, Ignis’s confession rejuvenating the well of emotion that the freshman thought had run dry. With his heart stuck in his throat, he placed his head in his hands, tears now freely flowing.

“What—what am I supposed to do with that?” he sniffled, not expecting to feel Ignis’s arms wrap around him moments later.

“All I can do is ask for your forgiveness. It was never our intent to hurt you, Prompto,” the senior was saying, and even if it was against his better judgement, Prompto chose to believe him.

But it still left him with one burning question that went unanswered:

_Where do we go from here?_

* * *

4 People  
  
**Today** 7:59 AM  
Hey, after this meeting, I want to talk to all of you in person  
  
Ignis  
Certainly, I can pick you up from the Citadel and we can meet at my apartment  
I’m not sure what my father will say, but if he lets me, that should work  
  
Gladio  
Okay, I'll be there, just let me know the time  
Ignis  
Noct is most likely still asleep, but I’m sure he will have no qualms about it  
Thanks, Ignis  
  
Gladio  
Good luck today  


Prompto put his phone away as soon as he saw his father’s car pull down the long driveway, imagining it to be the hearse that would take him to his funeral.

 _Stop being so fatalistic,_ he scolded, but it was hard not to be when you were being summoned by the king himself. He wondered if Regis would be as kind to him as he was the first time they had met, after he had run into the monarch in the halls of the academy, but he doubted it. It was about time for his luck to run out.

Verstael didn’t spare a glance at Prompto when he climbed into the passenger seat, speeding away before his son could even fasten his seatbelt, but the student didn’t dare comment.

It seemed he had made the right decision to wear a suit, for Verstael was wearing one as well. His father’s was a sleek black, more understated compared to what he usually wore, and it paired nicely with Prompto’s gray. He wasn’t all that worried about how they looked though, he was more concerned with how Noctis would react upon seeing him.

The Citadel was a place in Insomnia that everyone knew and recognized, the symbol of the city and its heart, but Prompto had never been inside it. The first thing he noticed when they pulled up to the gate, Verstael explaining to the guard that, yes, they _did_ in fact have an appointment, was how big it really was. Even sitting forward to peer through the windshield, Prompto’s eyes couldn’t find the top of the building, and it was yet another reminder that he was in way over his head.

After checking their IDs and speaking to someone for a few minutes on a radio, the guard waved them along, and Prompto watched the gates pull apart like the gaping maw of a beast intent on swallowing them whole. They pulled down the long drive to park where they were directed to by a pair of uniformed soldiers, his sense of dread intensifying with every turn of the car’s wheels. When he shut the ignition shut off, Verstael finally spoke.

“I doubt you need to be reminded, but I will do so anyway. Do _not_ do anything to embarrass me in front of the king, or I _will_ make you regret it. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Prompto muttered as he opened the door to get out.

It was a short walk to the front of the building from where they were parked, and they were met by a trio of Kingsglaive who appeared to be waiting for them.

“Verstael Besithia?” the one at the front asked, and Prompto’s father nodded. “Right this way, sir.”

They followed the soldiers up the long set up of stairs that would take them to the arched doorways leading into the Citadel, and to keep himself from thinking about what he was getting himself into, Prompto counted the steps along the way.

_52…53…54…55…_

He stopped when they reached the top and hurried to catch up once he realized that he was lagging behind. Prompto took in the sights as they entered the building, the polished floors and ornate decorations, golden accents everywhere he looked. There was a hushed quiet about the Citadel, similar to being in a church—a sacredness that couldn’t be ignored.

Prompto tried to control his foot falls so they wouldn’t make noise on the marble beneath him, sticking close behind his father as the Kingsglaive escorted them into a nearby elevator. The faster it ascended, the more his stomach dropped, and by the time the doors slid open with a soft ding, he noticed that he was sweating.

When they got off the elevator it was clear by the Kingsglaive who lined the narrow hall that it wasn’t a floor meant for the common public. One of the guards nodded to them, multiple pairs of eyes tracking their every movement as they passed.

Eventually the corridor dumped them into a circular room with high ceilings and tall windows for walls, the natural light giving it a warmth that the rest of the building lacked. In the center of the space was a round table made of dark wood with four chairs to match it, the only real furniture to be seen, although Prompto did spy two couches through an archway at the back as they made their way closer.

Prompto was admiring the gold leaves embroidered into the chairs’ seat cushions when he heard someone approaching, a rhythmic tapping accompanied by muted footsteps. The Kingsglaive with them now stood at attention as they turned to watch King Regis emerge from the same corridor they had used, Prince Noctis visible over the ruler’s shoulder.

It was hard for Prompto to keep his expression neutral when Noctis’s eyes fell on him, and he clasped his hands behind his back so no one would see that they were shaking. As the prince and his father moved into the sunlight, Prompto noticed that the pinstripes in their matching black suits were the same gold as that of the chairs, and he wondered if they had coordinated on purpose.

When King Regis finally made it to the table, leaning to the side his cane was on and moving slower than the last time Prompto had seen him, the Kingsglaive saluted by placing fists over chest before bowing. Verstael, bending deep at the waist, nudged Prompto, and the high schooler hurried to mimic him, eyes flitting up beneath his lashes to watch Noctis’s father.

“At ease,” the king said with a smile.

A Glaive pulled out one of the high-backed chairs, and the monarch nodded his thanks as he lowered himself into it. Once he was situated, Noctis sat beside him, and Verstael and Prompto pulled out their own chairs to join them. The table itself was big enough that they weren’t all sitting side-by-side, but Prompto could have stretched his legs out to kick Noctis if he wanted to.

The boys exchanged a glance, but Prompto was having trouble reading Noctis, the prince’s face blank and devoid of emotion. In turn, he tried to summon up the mask he had often worn growing up in his early years at the academy, hoping that no one would look at him too hard or see through it, but he was out of practice.

 _Worst case scenario, I can always ask to go to the bathroom_ , he thought.

“Mr. Besithia, thank you for joining us,” King Regis began, and Prompto thought how strange it was to hear his father’s name coming out of the king’s mouth.

“Thank you for having us, Your Majesty, although I regret the circumstances under which we are meeting,” Verstael answered diplomatically. Prompto had to give it to him—his father was a smooth talker, and he begrudgingly acknowledged that it was probably why they had made it this far in life.

“I, too, was young once, though it is probably difficult to imagine.” When the king chuckled, Prompto finally saw the family resemblance. Noctis didn’t share much of his father’s looks, but he had Regis’s same laugh. Some of Prompto’s anxiety ebbed when he heard it, and he forced a smile in the hopes that it would make him more endearing.

“Even so, there is a level of decorum that I expect for Prompto to uphold, and he has not met that standard. I apologize if this _incident—”_ Verstael took a second to glare at Prompto, “—has caused you or His Highness any distress.”

The king looked at Noctis thoughtfully, and then to Prompto, and the two boys held eye contact rather than subject themselves to the monarch’s gaze.

“Thank you for your concern, but I have not called you here today to berate your son for his behavior. I merely wish to know the details of what transpired,” Noctis’s father explained. “Would you care to tell me the story in your own words?”

There was an extended pause that caused Prompto to lift his head. The moment he realized that the king’s question was directed at him was the same moment that his mask cracked, fear surging through him like ice in his veins as all color drained from his face. Noctis was also studying him, still not giving anything away, and Prompto had no idea what he was supposed to say or do. To make matters worse, he could feel Verstael’s threatening aura engulfing him, his father’s words ringing in his ears.

_Do not do anything to embarrass me in front of the king, or I will make you regret it._

“You need not fear,” King Regis reassured him, kind eyes softening further with his smile. “Tell us the truth.”

Prompto wanted to laugh, but he also wanted to cry. The truth was the last thing he could tell, but everyone was watching him, expecting an answer, and Prompto felt like he had walked into a classroom only to be told by the teacher that they were having a pop quiz.

 _Time to wing it_.

He only hoped that his best would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original, Prompto learns that his friends were sent to spy on him immediately after he falls out of the chapel window when he is recovering in the infirmary.


	15. False Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets through the conversation with King Regis and his father, but in doing so he jumps out of the fire and into the frying pan.
> 
> (See also: things have to get worse before they get better.)

“Um, well…”

Prompto’s knees were bouncing beneath the pressure he felt, and his father kicked him under the table as he tried to think of what to say.

“Go on,” Verstael urged impatiently, temper bubbling under the surface.

“Well, um, you see, Your Majesty, the thing is, Noct—His Highness—and I, we’re roommates, and um. We—we’re, we’re cool, you know? So we hang out, and, uh, Ravus, he—”

“He’s an asshole,” Noctis griped, crossing arms and legs in irritation.

To the king’s credit, he merely cleared his throat disapprovingly. “Noctis, that is hardly any way for a prince to speak about his future brother-in-law.”

 _Brother-in-law_. Prompto balked at the title, whatever small amount of courage he had vanishing as he was reminded that Noctis was never meant for him, no matter what they felt, and he never would be. Better for them to have a clean break now and leave this entire embarrassing mess behind them.

“Ravus, he, um, I don’t think he likes me very much, and he was just looking out for the prince, you know? That’s all. I mean, I get it, he shouldn’t be associating with someone like me.” Prompto was inspecting his pants, finding a loose string in the seam to pull at.

Noctis sat forward, slamming a palm down on the table so that it rattled. “Ravus followed Prompto into a bathroom and attacked him! And I defended him. _That’s_ the truth.”

Meanwhile, Prompto could hear his father’s jaw pop from how hard the man was clenching it, and he assumed that meant he’d be getting yelled at before this was over, but King Regis remained calm, listening intently.

“Someone like you,” the ruler repeated slowly, and Prompto’s head jerked up in question. “What do you mean by that?” It wasn’t judgmental, only curious, but Prompto wouldn’t be able to reply honestly, because the answer was, ‘a Niff bastard.’

“Uh, well, we’re not exactly the same social status, and all that,” he floundered. “So, I think Ravus thinks I’m beneath him—beneath Prince Noctis, I mean—Your Majesty.”

“And did he in fact assault you?”

The king’s follow up was just as hard-hitting as his other questions, even if they were all asked in the same even tone, and Prompto bit down on his inner lip, fingernails digging into palms painfully.

There was a scoff from Noctis, as if he couldn’t believe Prompto hadn’t defended himself immediately. “Prompto, _tell_ him. You don’t have any reason to protect Ravus!”

“I wasn’t hurt,” Prompto mumbled. “It really wasn’t a big deal.”

Noctis’s jaw dropped, and he stood angrily, both hands now pressed firmly on the table. “ _Prompto_ , what—”

“Noctis,” King Regis said, discernably more pointed than before, and the prince took his seat crossly, huffing. “You will have to forgive my son. It seems that he has become…intimately concerned with Prompto’s wellbeing, as it is all he has wanted to discuss since he got home,” he noted, and Prompto was surprised to see Noctis flush. “Which brings me to my next question. These, ah, rumors, regarding your relationship with my son…”

_Oh gods—Ramuh, strike me with your lightning and kill me now, please._

Prompto cringed as a blush overtook his face, and he didn’t venture to look at his father, who he had no doubt was thoroughly enraged at this point.

It grew so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat, and Prompto struggled to breathe normally, inhales turning quick and shallow.

_They’re expecting an answer—what do I say? Are we still sticking to the plan? Do I say no, that it’s a lie?_

“That’s—it’s not what it—I—um—” Prompto was stuttering, entire body convulsing with his nervousness.

“Spit it out, boy,” Verstael snapped as his patience finally ran out.

“The rumors are wrong,” Noctis said quietly, drawing everyone’s attention. “We’re just friends,” he asserted firmly. It was convincing, leaving no question, and even if it was true, it sucked all the air from Prompto’s lungs, leaving him lightheaded.

_Just friends. Are we even that?_

Noctis took it a step further, this time speaking directly to his father. “I hoped that if you thought I was with someone other than Luna that you’d take me out of school.” A shrug then, the prince’s casual nonchalance making it seem like it should have been obvious that it was all a game. The king sat back, hands clasping in his lap, expression still neutral.

“Prompto?” Verstael demanded. It was clear he expected his son to agree to what the prince was saying, erasing any remaining doubt.

“Yeah. We made it up.” Caving beneath the pressure was easy, but even still, the admission stung. He looked between Noctis and the king, heart heavy. “I’m sorry.”

There was a heavy sigh of relief from Verstael, and Prompto had never resented him more. “Your Majesty, I am thoroughly embarrassed by this entire ordeal. This was not at all how I imagined our first meeting. If there is _anything_ I can do to set your mind at ease…”

Now that the worst had passed, Prompto retreated within himself, letting his father’s words float in one ear and out the other. The sudden drop in emotion had him feeling drained, and he wished that he could lie down somewhere and pass out, but it seemed like Verstael was intent on dragging out the conversation for as long as possible. He kept his eyes down and mouth shut, studying the grain of the wood in the table, praying for it to end.

“I am glad we could resolve this without involving Headmaster Izunia,” Verstael was saying, rising to his feet along with the king.

Thankful that this meant that they were finally done, Prompto did the same, bowing hastily alongside his father.

“Certainly. As am I,” King Regis replied.

Prompto avoided looking at Noctis as Verstael delivered several more politely worded pleasantries, following after his father as soon as they were dismissed.

The doors on the elevator had barely shut when Verstael grabbed him by the elbow, thumb digging into the notch inside Prompto’s arm and shooting pain through it. He reacted by jerking away, but there was nowhere for him to go, causing him to slam against the wall of the compartment as his father hissed.

“You got lucky this time, but mess up again and I will remove you from the academy altogether.”

“Ow—you’re hurting me!” Prompto complained, trying to wrench his father’s hand away only to have it clamp down harder.

“From now on, you will do _exactly_ as you are told. No music, no photography, and no more silly notions of doing anything that doesn’t directly contribute to our success. Do you understand?”

Verstael’s face was close to Prompto’s, and he could hear the blood rushing as his heart rate spiked with rage and fear. Something snapped inside him, and a spiteful retort made it past his lips, too fast to stop.

“ _Our_ success?” Prompto growled, pushing his father away roughly. The man looked shocked by the retaliation, hold loosening as he stumbled backwards. “It’s never been about _us_!” he yelled now, fists balling. “It’s always been about _you_ and your research! And now you’re mad because you think I’m going to mess that up—you’ve never cared about me or what I want!” Prompto was shouting even as the elevator came to a stop, having reached the ground floor. “Well, guess what? Once the king knows what you’re up to, all of that will be over, so good luck doing anything then!”

Prompto knew he had made a grave mistake when Verstael’s eyes doubled in size, his hand rapidly raising to strike in reaction to the information being wielded against him, and the boy flinched back, arms coming up to block the blow that he knew was coming. But then the doors slid open to the sound of dying chatter, and Verstael merely tucked an arm around Prompto’s waist and dragged him away from the prying eyes of the group entering the elevator.

“Not a word,” Verstael ordered, words more dangerous than anything Prompto had ever heard.

Fingers gripped Prompto’s side until they were out of the Citadel and past the Glaives stationed where they had parked, and he briefly considered screaming for help as they passed them, terrified of what Verstael might do once they were alone. He didn’t though, his fear winning over the fleeting notion, and he allowed his father to shove him into the passenger’s seat after he flung the car door open, sinking into the leather when Verstael climbed inside.

“Speak,” the man barked as he threw the car in drive.

Prompto’s mind was racing worse than it had been in front of King Regis, and he knew that this was the true test that he couldn’t afford to mess up. There were only two choices: tell Verstael that he had overheard him talking on the phone or tell him that Noctis and the others had been asked to spy on them. Either one wouldn’t go over well.

Or, a third option, lie and hope that he would escape his father’s wrath unharmed.

“Everyone talks about it,” Prompto claimed, committing fully. “How I’m a Niff bastard, and that you do shady things to keep me at the academy. They all think you’re up to something.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but he hoped that it would be enough to satisfy Verstael and keep him at bay.

“Who is ‘they’?” the man pressured. His driving was erratic, reflecting the panic that could be found in his crumbling composure, and Prompto gripped the door handle as he continued to face forward, worried that Verstael would be able to see through his lies.

“Just—kids at school, I don’t know.”

“I need _names_ , Prompto,” Verstael snarled. His father took a sharp turn, and Prompto found himself pressed against the window, stomach lurching.

“I don’t know!” he insisted hopelessly.

“Is the prince one of them?” It sounded more like a rhetorical question, calculating, and Verstael drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they sat at a red light, car slowly inching forward. “Of course, it makes sense now. After all, the prince wouldn’t waste his time on you otherwise.” Prompto felt his heart sink as his father hit the nail on the head. He was chewing his lip now, a nervous tic that the student recognized as one he had inherited. “Very well,” Verstael said abruptly.

The light turned green, and the man floored the gas, Prompto’s head digging into the headrest. It was silent the rest of the way back to the research facility, as if Verstael had come to a decision that no longer required his input, and the need to know what that decision was ate at Prompto’s insides, making him sick.

It was on a whim that Prompto discreetly took his phone out of his jacket to send a quick text to the group chat he shared with Noctis and the others.

4 People  
  
Gladio  
Good luck today  
**Today** 5:43 PM  
I'm in trouble  
Probably won't be able to meet tonight  


He then began deleting all his threads as his father watched the road, just in case Verstael decided to go snooping later, shoving his cell back in his pocket when they pulled in to park.

It seemed that Prompto’s gut instinct had been right, because as soon as they stepped into the building, his father held out his hand.

“Give me your phone,” Verstael ordered. Prompto didn’t bother to argue, surrendering it reluctantly as they made their way down to the basement where they lived. “Now, go to your room and stay there until I tell you to come out.”

The order was one that Prompto was more than willing to obey, eager to escape his father’s company, and he all but ran up the steps in the kitchen so that he could fling himself onto his bed.

His thoughts were a steady droning in his head, like a swarm of bees, and he covered his face with a pillow, wishing that he could drown them out. It was too much—first Noctis and Gladio, then King Regis, and now his father. It was hard to know what was up and what was down, let alone right from wrong.

 _I can’t do this anymore_ , he thought.

For once, the darkness of his mind was a refuge he welcomed, one that he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to leave.

* * *

“…he’s not here at the moment.”

It was Verstael’s obvious irritation, still recognizable through his fitful sleep, that woke Prompto. Sitting up, he looked around groggily, the lack of windows in his room making it difficult to determine what time it was.

“Odd. He told me that we would be meeting this evening for a tutoring session,” an accented voice was answering.

Startled to hear Ignis’s voice through his wall, Prompto jumped up, slipping down the stairs in his rush to get down them.

He found Verstael and Ignis in the living room, close to the elevator. It was easy to tell by Verstael’s closed off stance that he wasn’t pleased to find the high schooler in his home, and he glared over his shoulder as Prompto approached, another silent warning.

“Ah, Prompto, I got worried when you didn’t keep our scheduled appointment. I thought perhaps you had fallen ill again,” Ignis said with a straight face.

He wondered bitterly if it would ever cease to amaze him how good all of his friends were at lying. _I’m a complete idiot._

“Oh, no, just busy. Sorry I didn’t reply, I um…” Prompto turned to Verstael, worried that he might piss him off more if he didn’t tell Ignis to leave. “…lost my phone.”

Ignis pretended to ignore the obvious awkwardness, smiling warmly. “Ah, what a relief. Well, the exam for World History is tomorrow, and I know you mentioned how important it was for you to keep your grades up. If I’m not imposing, I would be happy to tutor you here.”

His comment, though directed at Prompto, was obviously for Verstael’s benefit as it caused the man to shift, lips pursing as he looked from one boy to the other. Prompto held his breath and hoped for the best.

_Come on—believe it—let me get lucky, just this once._

“Very well. I have a few things to attend to anyway,” Verstael slowly agreed. “One hour,” he added.

Prompto tried not to look too relieved as his father stepped around them and towards the elevator, keeping his expression as innocent as possible when the man glanced back at him. There was a hesitation there, and Prompto thought he might change his mind at the last second, but then he pressed the up button and disappeared behind the sliding doors.

He waited for the light above the doors to illuminate to show that Verstael was no longer on the same floor as them before he let out his breath, bending forward to put his hands on his knees.

“Are you alright?” Ignis asked with concern, a hand coming to rest on Prompto’s back. “Your phone has been disconnected.”

Straightening, Prompto blinked, all grogginess he felt earlier vanishing. “What?”

“I tried to ring you and it wouldn’t go through. We feared you might be in danger.”

 _We?_ He assumed that he was referring to him and Gladio and not Noctis considering how the meeting at the Citadel went, but the words still created butterflies in his stomach. _Maybe they really do care about me._

“My dad isn’t happy. I don’t know what’s he’s going to do. I told him that I knew he was up to something, and he sort of lost it.” The confession was long overdue, but still a difficult one. Ignis didn’t appear the least bit surprised as Prompto went on to say, “I overheard him talking on the phone to someone about infiltrating Insomnia. I…I wanted to tell you guys before all of this happened, but I chickened out.”

_But now…what else do I have to lose?_

“Thank you for telling me. I know this must be hard for you, but is there anything you can think of that might provide proof of that?” Ignis was gentle despite his directness, and Prompto hoped that he could be trusted.

He considered the senior's question. His father had rarely let him inside his lab, and his office was always locked when he wasn’t home. It would be nearly impossible to break in to either of them. For one, there were cameras everywhere, and each door required a keycard to open. Helplessly, Prompto shook his head.

“I don’t think so, especially not now that he’s on alert, y’know?”

“Of course.” Ignis was trying to be understanding, but still appeared thoughtful, scanning the room with the critical gaze that he tended to use when he was scheming. “Would you be opposed to us helping you in this? I have an idea, but it would require your cooperation.”

Despite telling Ignis the truth, there were still something inside Prompto that didn’t agree with the idea of assisting in incriminating his father. As much as he hated him, Verstael was the only family he had, and that still counted for something—didn’t it?

“I don’t know.” Prompto said honestly, and he ran a hand through his hair, debating.

Speaking quietly, Ignis took Prompto’s hands in his and squeezed. “I will not force you to make a decision, but know that we will ensure you are spared in all of this if you agree to help us. You have my word.” They stood there for a long moment, neither one moving, until finally, Ignis stepped back. “Do you have a phone that you can reach us on should you need anything?”

“Yeah, there’s one in the kitchen,” Prompto murmured. With a nod, Ignis pulled a piece of paper out of the briefcase he was carrying, scribbling a sequence of numbers on it before giving it to him, and he tucked it in his pocket for safe keeping.

“Do not hesitate to call me.” There was an intensity in the upperclassman’s eyes that Prompto wasn’t used to seeing, and it made him realize that out of the three boys he had tried to befriend, he had mistaken Gladio for the most intimidating when it had really been Ignis all along.

“I won’t,” Prompto promised, and with that, Ignis was on his way towards the elevator, leaving Prompto on his own.

With a little under an hour to kill before his father returned, Prompto figured he might as well make the most of his time and search the apartment for anything that might help make a decision whether to help Ignis or not. It seemed like a long shot, but he tried the door to his father’s office first. Like he suspected, it was locked tight, but the voice in the back of his head told him to try another way. Listening to it, he climbed up the stairs to his bedroom and then the ones down into the bathroom, jiggling the handle to the door it shared with the office.

To his utter amazement, it opened. Poking his head in, he looked from left to right, half expecting a booby-trap of some sort. Finding none, he padded carefully inside and over to his father’s desk. The laptop on it was open, but required a password, and the drawers beneath it and in the filing cabinet behind the desk were locked.

Other than the desk there were a few shelves packed with science books, and an assortment of other subjects that Prompto didn’t have any interest in, but perused in case they could provide any clues. He paused when he found one that seemed out of place. The _History of Eos_ was tucked between _Biogenetic Anomalies and Anachronisms_ and _Human Molecular Genetics_ , and it didn’t seem to be as dusty as the others, as if it had been handled recently.

Eyebrows furrowing, Prompto reached to take it, then jumped back in alarm as he heard the click of a mechanism like a key turning, the entire shelf popping forward to reveal a passageway behind it.

“What the…?”

Prompto froze, torn between running away and going forward. Instinctively, he knew things would change for him if he decided to keep investigating, potentially forever, but now that he had come this far, he felt he had no choice but to continue.

He wasn’t sure what he would find as he slid behind the shelf, but he didn’t have to go far before he entered what looked to be a control room of some kind. It was lined with televisions and switchboards, all with different numbered knobs and toggles that Prompto couldn’t make any sense of. 

Watching the screens revealed that they were connected to the security cameras throughout the facility. One showed the front doors of the building, and another the front lobby with the main elevator, but there were plenty more he didn’t recognize, strange rooms with large tubes and machinery, evoking images of an old horror movie he’d once seen. There was a time stamp in the bottom right corner that revealed the feed was in real time, and Prompto squinted at the different panels, trying to figure out why his father would have the room hidden away.

There was a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, and Prompto did a double take before staring at the screen. He saw his father’s profile in one frame, lips moving to indicate he was talking to someone outside of the camera’s filed of vision, but a moment later that person moved into view.

Prompto didn’t blink, thinking that it had to be a mistake, but the longer the two men stood side-by-side, discussing something that he couldn’t hear, the more sure he was sure that it was Ardyn Izunia, the academy’s headmaster.

“Sound—there has to be someway to turn on the sound,” Prompto said to himself, hands trailing over the panel in front of him frantically.

It took some trial and error before Prompto found the dial for the volume and was able to select the correct channel, but soon his father’s voice was coming through the speakers loud and clear.

“—complete the transfer by the end of this week?”

“Yes, and the emperor will embrace with you with open arms,” Headmaster Izunia claimed. “You needn’t worry, everything is still going according to plan.”

“No,” Verstael retorted. “The _plan_ was to destroy Insomnia from the inside so Niflheim wouldn’t have to go through with this ridiculous charade of forging a treaty, and now, if the shipment isn’t received before the Lucian king becomes aware of it, Aldercapt will have my head, and yours too.”

The headmaster’s laugh was chilling, obviously much less concerned with whatever Verstael was raving about.

“Oh, there, there, don’t fret! I will ensure that your precious children make it to Gralea unscathed, you have my word.”

 _Precious children_? Prompto didn’t understand. The more he listened, the more questions he had.

Verstael huffed, mouth twisting into a scowl. “Don’t call them that.”

“Oh? Then what is your adoring son, Prompto, hm?” Ardyn’s shoulders shook with another laugh, and Prompto leaned in, entranced by the bizarre scene and trying to understand the few context clues he had picked up on.

“Prompto?” he asked with disdain. “He's merely a failed experiment that I should have disposed of long ago. I regret keeping him, but it would be too suspicious to get rid of him now. Perhaps he will get 'lost' on our way back to Niflheim.”

As his father was speaking, Prompto took a few hasty steps backwards without twisting away from the screen, managing to trip over the one chair in the room.

“Shit!”

His hand shot out to keep himself from falling, but instead he fell into one of the panels, back thudding roughly against the metal and knocking the breath out of him. As his body draped over it, switches and buttons were pressed by accident, triggering a blaring alarm to the sound of a flashing red light overhead.

“ _Shit_ ,” Prompto repeated, this time with a groan.

The TVs confirmed his fear, which was that the screeching must have been audible throughout the entire building, because he was no longer able to find either his father or Headmaster Izunia on any of the screens.

 _I have to get out of here_ , he realized, but there was just one problem, which he only noticed as he tried to leave the room. The bookcase that served as the door had slid shut, locking in place, and Prompto had no idea how to open it. Judging by the panel on the wall beside it, it required a code, something that he wasn't privy to.

He was trapped inside the secret chamber—with no way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original, Prompto gets suspended for the supposed "fight" with Ravus and is kept at home with Verstael for a week, which is when shit goes down...obviously, the timeline and circumstances are a bit different here, as is how he finds out about his father's shady dealing with Niflheim and Ardyn.


	16. One Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being trapped in the secret room inside Verstael's office, things with his father come to a head.
> 
> Prompto only has one shot to escape, but it will come at a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Gun use/violence contained in this chapter.

Prompto searched for a phone, studying the nine digits scrawled in Ignis’s handwriting like his life depended on it.

_If I can figure out a way to call him, maybe he can help me before it’s too late._

It was a long shot, but it was the only chance Prompto had, so he scoured the room top to bottom, even attempting to flip other switches on the panels in the event they might reveal something he had missed, but he couldn’t find anything.

When the insistent ringing noise finally died several minutes later, he knew that he was running out of time. There was nowhere for Prompto to hide when the door to the room slid open though, and although the alarm had been silenced, he was still on high alert.

Verstael stormed in, jaw set in icy fury, and Prompto had zero illusions that he would be able to talk his way out of trouble this time, so he did the next best thing—begged for mercy.

“I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry—” he babbled, arms shielding his face as Verstael grabbed him by his collar and dragged him into the office. “Please, I won’t say anything, I swear—don’t hurt me— _please_!” It was hard for him not to cry when Verstael shoved him roughly into a chair, resigned to the fact that this was the end.

“Shut up you worthless, impudent child!” Verstael snarled, shaking Prompto by the neck so that his head swam. “And turn out your pockets.”

His father hadn’t let go of him, nails clawing at the tender skin at the base of Prompto’s skull as they curled into his hair demandingly.

“Wh—what—?”

“Empty them!” he commanded before shaking Prompto again, harder this time.

Jittery, it took the boy several attempts before he succeeded in doing as his father asked, retrieving loose change from one jacket pocket and the piece of paper with Ignis’s phone number from the other. Verstael made sure to stick his hands into each one anyway before doing the same to his son’s pants pockets, and Prompto felt his one flicker of hope go out when his father tucked the items inside his suit for safekeeping.

“What were you hoping to accomplish by snooping around, hm? Trying to find evidence of something, were you? Clearly, despite my best efforts you didn’t inherit my intelligence and wit.” Verstael sneered as Prompto blinked up through watering eyes, scalp burning from the strain placed on the roots of his hair.

“Please, let me go.” Unable to stand it any longer, he attempted to peel his father’s hand away, only to have Verstael knuckle down viciously.

“ _Everything_ you have is because of me, you ungrateful brat! Anyone else would have abandoned you, failed experiment that you are, but _I_ took pity on you— _me_. Do not make me repeat myself again. You _will_ stay here until I come for you, and if you disobey me, you will leave me no choice but to deal with you as I should have years ago.” Each word Verstael uttered needled under Prompto’s skin, raising goosebumps across his arms. “Do I make myself clear?” the man hissed.

Through the pain that was still searing through Prompto’s scalp now seeped a bone-chilling fear, the likes of which the teenager had never known, and he gave the slightest of nods, frozen in place.

Finally, Verstael released him, and he gasped, rubbing fingertips along his throbbing skull.

“Get out,” his father spit.

Immediately, Prompto dashed out of the office, tilting the chair over so that it clattered to the floor in the process. He thudded up the stairs to his room, wishing more than ever that he had a proper door that he could slam and lock behind him. Convulsing with sobs, he threw aside the curtain and collapsed onto his mattress, curling into the fetal position as he tried to muffle the sound of his cries with a pillow.

It would take a miracle to escape from Verstael at this rate, and Prompto knew his track record with those wasn’t great.

_There’s no hope for me now._

Eventually though, Prompto’s crying became sniffles, and his mind cleared enough for a spark of an idea to shine through the doom and gloom. Drying his tears with the edge of a blanket, he sat up, inhaling with a shudder.

He had a plan.

* * *

Prompto wasn’t the least bit tired, which made it easy to stay awake. Every ten to fifteen minutes he’d creep to the stairs and peer down into the bathroom he shared with his father, looking for the small line of light beneath Verstael’s office door.

Verstael had locked himself inside the room hours ago, and with it being past midnight, Prompto was afraid the man would never go to bed. Then, around two am, the light went out, and the boy pretended to be sleeping as his father ascended the steps to kneel beside him. Prompto kept his breaths even as his thoughts quickened, sensing Verstael’s body heat in the dark.

_Go away—go away—go away._

A few agonizing seconds later, Verstael exited the room quietly, and Prompto waited until long after his footsteps had faded and the house went still to roll into a crouch.

He knew he would only get one opening to execute his plan, and that the chance of being found out was high since Verstael’s bedroom was directly off the kitchen, but Prompto could see no other way around it.

It was the few minutes that he had been trapped in the control room that had first given him the idea, suspecting that his father would do exactly what he had done—confiscate his one remaining lifeline. The entire time he had been confined to his bedroom, he had been repeating Ignis’s phone number silently from memory, trying not to forget it.

 _Joke’s on you, Verstael. I’m smarter than you think_.

The one major downside was that the only landline in the entire apartment was in the kitchen, which meant Prompto would have to dial Ignis’s number and convince him to help before Verstael woke up and realized what was going on.

Unfortunately, the man was a light sleeper. Prompto would most likely have one minute, maybe less, and that was all dependent on the fact that Ignis would even answer.

 _A long shot is still a shot_.

There was no preparation to be had, he just had to do it, so Prompto began the painstaking crawl down the bedroom steps, every tiny groan and creak in the wood like a gunshot to his ears. He didn’t dare to breathe, creeping slower than honey dripping off a spoon, fearing that any moment he would hear Verstael’s bedroom door swing open.

It never happened however, and he was able to set both feet on the tile floor feeling accomplished before moving through the dark to find where he knew the phone was situated on the countertop. He couldn’t afford to relax yet though, and he punched in the nine digits blindly, listening to the dial tone with a sense of foreboding as he kept his eyes trained in the direction of Verstael’s bedroom.

_Pick up—please pick up!_

The ringing continued, and Prompto began to think it was a lost cause, but then he heard a faint click. He spoke quick and low, not giving Ignis the chance to say hello in the event they were interrupted.

“Ignis! It’s Prompto, listen, I don’t have a lot of time. My dad _is_ up to something, and Headmaster Izunia is involved. I found this secret room in his office with a bunch of cameras and I heard them talking—something about the emperor, and Niflheim, and a transfer—anyway, he found me, so he knows that—” While Prompto was getting the words out, the lights in the kitchen abruptly turned on, and his adrenaline spiked, stomach knotting.

Verstael was awake.

“—we’re up to something and he has me trapped here. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I need you to get help—”

He could hear the bedroom door rapidly open like the swishing of a guillotine’s blade, and he grew more frantic, stumbling over his words.

“—right now, _please_ help me, I—”

Prompto didn’t see what collided with the back of his head—all he saw was stars.

He was out before he hit the floor.

* * *

“Wake up!” someone was yelling, but it sounded far away, like they were underwater.

Prompto felt like he was in a dream within a dream, or like he had drank too much of Gladio’s One-Two Punch, his brain working as if it were running through mud.

The first thing he did was open his eyes, but he didn’t recognize where he was. He found himself slumped in a tube-like structure that was barely tall enough for him to stand up—not that he wanted to. His entire body hurt when he moved, head heavy as he lifted it to look around.

There was a spotlight within the circular glass, and the glare made it difficult to see what was beyond the tube, though Prompto could barely make out other pods similar to it, along with metal walkways lined with dimmed emergency lights.

While he was squinting, inching closer to the glass to try and see through it, a hand smacked directly in front of his face and Prompto screamed, falling backwards.

Soon, the glass was splitting open like a cocoon, revealing the last person Prompto wanted to see standing outside it—Verstael. Which was bad enough in and of itself, but then he saw what the man had in his hand.

A gun.

Prompto’s mouth went dry and he swallowed the vomit that rose reactively in his throat.

“The area code for that number you dialed was for the Citadel,” Verstael stated calmly, leveling the gun at Prompto’s head. “You’re coming with me.”

Held in place by his terror, Prompto didn’t show any signs of moving, and Verstael bent down to jerk him upright, but the teenager’s legs gave out from under him and he leaned against the inside of the tube, suddenly dizzy.

_This is a bad dream. Let this be a bad dream._

“Get a move on!” he growled, pressing the barrel of the gun into the small of Prompto’s back. The subtle movement spurred Prompto into action, and he summoned what little strength he had to do as he was told, but as soon as he stepped out of the translucent holding cell, he stopped dead in his tracks, seeing for the first time with clarity the room around him.

There were countless pods like the one he had found himself in, set in neat rows that filled the entirety of the space, but it wasn’t the pods that concerned Prompto, but what he found inside them.

Naked bodies suspended lifelessly by cables and cords, and as Verstael forced him down one of the walkways, he saw that they were identical to him, exact replicas that shared the same blond hair and freckles that he had seen every day in the mirror for years, right down to the curve of their mouths and angles of their faces.

_This isn’t a dream—this is a nightmare._

In his panic, Prompto forgot to be afraid. “What the hell is this? Why—why are there hundreds of _me_?”

“Keep moving,” Verstael said, forgoing the question entirely, but Prompto didn’t budge, fingers grazing along one of the containers with horrified awe.

He recalled the headmaster’s words then, the realization dawning that this is what he must have been referring to.

_I will ensure that your precious children make it to Gralea unscathed, you have my word._

“What—what are they?” _More importantly, what am I?_

The world was spinning faster now, and Prompto was having trouble finding his footing, but Verstael was more than happy to help, all but dragging him out the door.

“Keep moving,” the man reiterated, and Prompto did so numbly, focusing intently on the clones in the tubes until they left the room entirely.

He had a feeling that it was a sight he wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon, a million questions now plaguing him.

With the gun in his father’s hand poking into Prompto’s back the entire way, they made it down the hall of an unfamiliar floor and into an elevator.

“What are they?” Prompto whispered, still desperate to know the answer, but Verstael wasn’t in the mood to talk and stared blankly forward, blatantly ignoring him. “Please,” Prompto begged as the doors opened and he was shoved into a dimly lit passageway, forced forward once more.

“If you do not shut up, I will shoot you,” Verstael said without any trace of remorse. “Now walk.” Prompto closed his mouth and did as he was told.

Wherever they had ended up was cold and damp, and Prompto imagined that it was another hidden corridor of some kind, possibly underground. It seemed that his father had made an escape plan from the start, and he imagined that there was a very real chance that no one would find them once they were free of the research facility.

 _I don’t want to die like this_ , Prompto thought. It was morbid, but it was true, and he was immediately flooded with regret for the things he hadn’t done—the words he hadn’t yet spoken. _If I get out of here, I swear I’ll change_.

It might have been against his better judgement, but Prompto started to pray then. It was the only thing he could do.

_Please, I need a miracle. A true miracle—just one, and then I’ll never ask for anything ever again._

Prompto shivered when they finally emerged from the tunnel and into the open air, the lights of the Besithia compound shining through the night behind them. They had come out on the backside of it, along the tree line by the barbed wire fence that surrounded the building, and Prompto was disappointed to see that they were safely away from any major roads, leaving no chance that anyone would randomly happen upon them—all according to Verstael’s plan, no doubt.

“Where are we going? We’re not taking a car?” Prompto wondered, to which Verstael grunted noncommittally.

They continued walking, moving slower as they circled away from the building and the light became obscured by greenery.

He briefly considered running. In the dark, it would be difficult for Verstael to shoot him with any accuracy, but then again Prompto also had no idea where to go and no way of calling for help—and if he tried to escape and his father caught him…well.

That would be it.

So, Prompto bided his time, trying to come up with a plan, but he wasn’t smart like Ignis, and he wasn’t strong like Gladio, and he sure as hell didn’t have Noctis’s commanding presence and confidence. He had to accept that he had nothing—no skills that could help him wiggle his way out of trouble, and no options left to him.

 _This is it. This is the end_.

His gaze lifted past the trees and towards the sky, surprised by how clearly he could see the stars. Usually, the glow from the city rendered them invisible, but tonight they shone with amazing brilliance, a cruel irony. While he studied them, Prompto saw a flash of blue in his periphery, and his heart jumped, thudding against his ribs.

He tried to turn as casually as possible, searching the shadows as his steps slowed.

 _It can’t be._ _I probably just imagined it_ , but then, there it was again, a distinctive blue flash among the branches over his head, and Prompto allowed himself to hope as he heard a rustle that could have been mistaken for a breeze.

“Hurry up, we haven’t got all night,” Verstael grumbled.

They were rounding the fence, the building now barely visible in the distance, and Prompto finally saw where they were going. Down a short gravel path was a dirt lot where a single vehicle was parked in a car port, blending in perfectly with the woods.

Once they got in the car, Prompto knew they’d never be coming back. His heart was racing as if he were running even though he was standing still, for he looked to his left, over Verstael’s shoulder, and was met by a pair of moonlit eyes staring back at him.

He’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

Noctis was crouched behind a bush, partly hidden by shadows, and he raised a finger to his lips. Prompto swallowed hard.

Seeing the prince was the last thing he would have expected—where was Ignis? Where was the Crownsguard? How did Noctis even find them?

But above all else— _what if Noctis gets hurt? What then?_ Dread seized him, sucking the fight straight out of Prompto.

Now, the situation had escalated to include the crown prince, a complication that he had never accounted for. The stakes were higher than they had ever been, and Prompto knew that he had a losing hand, but Noctis was already inching forward, motioning something that the captive immediately understood.

 _Grab, step, toss, roll._ The instructions for their throwing session in Tactics and Arms.

As Verstael busied himself with unlocking the car, Prompto shot a panicked look at Noctis, shaking his head.

 _No. No way_.

Noctis frowned, miming the actions again more forcefully before mouthing: ‘Trust me.’

Prompto knew he had prayed for a miracle, and the gods had answered. Of course, it was never in the way he expected. They had their opening, now the question remained—would they take the shot?

Verstael had opened the car door and was inserting the keys in the ignition, bent forward and not concerned with what Prompto was doing. He still held the gun in his right hand, but the boy knew that if he moved fast enough, he could get his arms inside his father’s and disarm him.

The man was straightening when Noctis urgently hissed. “ _Now_!”

It left Prompto with no choice, for Verstael immediately swung around, the hand clutching the gun rising threateningly.

 _Grab_ —Prompto took hold of Verstael’s wrist as the man fired, a ringing in his ears as the bullet zipped past him and into the night. _Step_ —pulling his father’s arm forward, he stepped hard, gripping with all his might. _Toss_ —using every ounce of strength, Prompto popped his hip out and in one fluid motion, had Verstael cursing as he flew through the air and into the side of the car. _Roll_ —dropping low, Prompto rolled away wildly, hoping that his father would be too stunned to fire the gun again any time soon.

There were shouts, a bright flash of azure flaring behind Prompto’s eyelids, and he opened them to find Noctis wrestling Verstael to the ground, trying to wrench the weapon out of the man’s grasp.

“Unhand me!” Verstael roared before catching Noctis with an elbow to the throat and sending him reeling.

“Noct!” Prompto screamed, pushing himself to his feet. The prince’s head turned in the direction of Prompto’s call, which gave Verstael the distraction he needed to knee Noctis in the gut.

Wheezing, he doubled onto his side as the crazed man shoved Noctis away, and they heard the gun cock, Prompto’s heart skipping a beat.

What happened next only took a matter of seconds, but to Prompto it was as if everything was moving in slow motion. He caught a glimpse of the look in Verstael’s eyes, one of pure, unfiltered hatred, and he knew as his father aimed the firearm at the prince that he intended to shoot. There was no time to think, only react, and despite the storm of emotions raging inside him, Prompto’s feet took him in the direction of Noctis as he dove for Verstael.

In the blur of activity, Prompto saw the spark of fire from the barrel—heard the gunshot—but none of that registered. All that mattered was keeping Noctis safe, and he hurled his body at Verstael in the hopes that it would be enough.

“Run!” Prompto was screaming. “Go _, now_!”

A fist collided with his mouth and Prompto tasted blood as he landed flat on his back. He heard Noctis yelling his name.

“Prompto? _Prompto_!”

There was something hot and wet against his torso, and through the haze of pain, he reached down, pressing a hand to his side. When he pulled it away, Prompto saw that his palm was dark and slick, and it took him a second to process what must have happened.

_I’ve been shot._

There was a sound of an engine revving in the background, but Prompto was too busy lifting his shirt in search of the bullet wound to notice that Verstael was getting away, and soon Noctis had him by the shoulders, on the verge of hysterics.

“Fuck—Prompto—it’s okay, I called for help, alright? Hang in there.”

 _I’m fine. I’m fine, everything is going to be fine_ , he was trying to convince himself, but the reality of the situation was reflected in Noctis’s face, more emotion in it than Prompto had ever seen. The prince was worried—worried for him—and that didn’t bode well.

Noctis was lowering Prompto back onto the ground, and the physical pain started to kick in, a stabbing in his gut that was growing stronger with every uneven breath he took. The prince’s hands were on his, helping him apply pressure to the wound as sirens started to wail in the distance, but all he could think of was how dark his blood looked in the dead of night.

_Am I dying?_

“Noctis, I’m sorry,” Prompto gasped. “For everything, I—”

“Shut up, save your strength,” Noctis interrupted, raw emotion coming through. He’d never seen Noctis cry, and it scared him more than anything.

“No—I mean it—I should have been honest with you from the start.”

“Me too,” Noctis agreed quietly. “But there will be time to talk later, just take it easy, okay?”

Prompto’s strength was fading fast, and he didn’t want to waste this chance—not again.

“If I don’t make it, I want you to know, I—”

He wasn’t able to get the words out though, Noctis’s body sliding against him as the prince’s mouth covered his, and he was so startled that he forgot to breathe, consciousness slipping away and out of reach.

The last thing Prompto saw was the stars overhead, tiny pinpricks of light that served as beacons in the darkness, just as this pivotal moment was one of the few in his short life that would shine above all the others—provided he lived to remember it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original, Noctis helps Prompto discover the secret that Verstael is hiding and the fact that Prompto is a clone. Also, when they escape, the Crownsguard is there to save them before Verstael manages to get away. 
> 
> Things took a more dramatic turn in the rewrite.
> 
> Fanart by @MrXylax on twitter


	17. Dissident Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between sleeping and waking, Prompto discovers he survived yet another serious injury.
> 
> But will he be ready to take on the real world?

_Prompto was standing on top of the Citadel, looking down._

_The sky above was split in two, night on one side, daytime on the other, both the sun and moon visible._

_All of Insomnia sprawled out before him; the city was covered in water, houses and cars floated past businesses._

_It was a long way down, but he wasn’t afraid, even as stars streaked around him like a tornado._

_“You should jump.” It was Ravus, watching him from a few feet away from the shadows, and with him was Verstael and Headmaster Izunia._

_“You’re a failed experiment,” his father was saying._

_“Worthless,” the headmaster chimed in._

_“Don’t listen to them.” It was Gladio, on the other side, in the sunlight. Ignis and Noctis were with him, and they were all in their school uniforms._

_“We have your back—always,” Ignis agreed._

_“Noct?” Prompto asked tentatively. He needed to know. Noctis was the deciding factor, the one who could tip the scales, but all the prince did was shrug._

_“You could jump.” It was an observation, neither hot nor cold. Just facts._

_Prompto stepped to the edge, and the water below swirled, becoming a dark whirlpool._

_“Jump,” Ravus urged, cackling._

_The others joined in, chanting. “Jump! Jump! Jump!”_

_“Will you catch me?” Prompto directed the question at Noctis, who was studying him, eyes now a vibrant fuchsia, lightning crackling over his skin._

_The sky was blending together, swirling dark and light, falling in on itself. Everything started to quake, as if the building itself would be the next to crumble, leaving them with no choice._

_“You have to jump,” Noctis said, and his voice thundered all around, supernatural in its power._

_Prompto took a deep breath before leaping, and his arms and legs flailed in mid-air._

_He was falling—down, down, down—and he was looking up towards the heavens that were now full of combusting stars, a rainbow of fireworks in his vision._

_Among them was Noctis, reaching out with a tail of blue light behind him, mouth opened in a shout that he couldn’t hear amid the universe’s dying breath._

_He hit the water._

* * *

Prompto gasped awake, entire body twitching with the rude return to reality.

As he focused on his breathing, he allowed his eyes to pan across the ceiling, pulling from his memory to create context for where he now found himself.

 _I’m not dead_.

It was a welcome surprise, to put it mildly.

Judging from the plush interior of the room he was in, it wasn’t the academy’s infirmary, which was a relief. Prompto was sick and tired of winding up there, although he gathered that he was in a medical facility of some sort based on the IV stuck in his arm and the monitors by the bedside that displayed his vitals. An oxygen mask covered Prompto’s face, which he pulled off as he marveled at the thickness of the bedsheets and softness of the mattress. There was also a couch, TV, and kitchenette on the opposite side of the room, more of a live-in suite than your typical hospital.

_Where am I?_

When he tried to sit up, a pain shot through his torso that rendered him breathless, and he had to take a moment to recover before pulling up the gown he was wearing. Prompto found the gunshot wound and saw that it was covered with gauze, affixed with medical tape to his side, and the incident with his father came flooding back with explicit clarity.

 _Noctis—is Noctis okay?_ He wasn’t as surprised as he should have been that it was the first thing he thought of, chest aching as he recalled the last thing that happened before he passed out.

“Hello?” Prompto called, fighting against the stabbing sensation in his side as he tried to sit up again. “Hello?” he repeated, more insistent as he grabbed for the IV stand, intent on using it as a crutch.

There was a noise then that made him pause, hurried footsteps coming towards him, and the door to the room swung open.

Prompto inhaled sharply when he saw Noctis, the prince’s clothes and hair disheveled to a degree the blond had never witnessed.

The distance between them closed in three sure steps from the prince, and even though it hurt when Noctis threw his arms around Prompto, crushing the two of them into a pillow, Prompto embraced him tightly in return, not wanting to let go.

“Thank the gods,” Noctis said, voice wavering. “I thought you were dead.”

“Well, here I am,” Prompto tried to joke, smiling as Noctis pulled back to look at him. “Gonna take more than that to get rid of me.”

“He refused to leave your side,” came a voice from the doorway. “Trust me, I tried.” Ignis, wearing his uniform sans tie, was watching the two of them with a gentle upturn of his lips, hands in his pockets. The senior’s hair was down instead of gelled, and seeing the upperclassman’s appearance less than perfect made Prompto wonder how long he had been out for. Ignis, ever the perceptive one, answered without having to be asked. “You slept for two days. I imagine the medication had something to do with it.”

While Ignis had been talking, Noctis’s hand had made its way into Prompto’s, and he stared down at it now, mind going blank.

“Two days, huh?”

“Yep,” Gladio yawned as he entered the room, stretching his arms wide. When they came back down, one hooked around Ignis’s waist and stayed there, the significance of the gesture not lost on Prompto. Ignis looked pleased, head coming to rest on Gladio’s shoulder lightly.

Prompto was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know. “And Verstael…?”

“He’s vanished,” Ignis said apologetically. “The Crownsguard are still searching for him, of course, but considering all possible evidence was destroyed in the fire, they are having some difficulties.”

Blinking in silent question, Prompto looked between the three.

“Ah, regrettably,” Ignis began in response to Prompto’s expression, “it seems that Verstael had a failsafe in place in the event his facility was overtaken. The building burned to the ground before the Crownsguard ever had a chance to investigate.”

The image of the clones in their strange tubes immediately came to mind, and a spike of nausea made Prompto grind his teeth to keep it from materializing.

“Oh.”

“You will be safe here in the Citadel, however. His Majesty has taken you into protective custody,” Ignis explained.

 _Protective custody?_ he thought in alarm. _So, what, I’m under house arrest?_

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Noctis promised with a squeeze of Prompto’s hand. “I swear.”

He knew he’d have to come back to the topic later, but there was something else Prompto wanted the answer to. “How did you find me? I called Ignis…” His friends were unified in shaking their heads. “…I thought?”

“Our cell phones are Crownsguard issued for security reasons. Oddly enough, my number is the same as Noctis’s except for the last digit,” said Ignis sheepishly.

 _So, I called Noctis by accident._ Prompto blushed as he thought back on the call, and how crazy he must have sounded over the phone.

“I came as soon as we got cut off and warped up to the roof,” Noctis told them, thumbing over the back of Prompto’s hand, gaze downcast. “When I caught sight of you guys at the fence line, I followed. The rest you know.”

“Didn’t tell us what was going on until after he was already there,” Gladio muttered in disapproval. “Could have gotten himself killed with that stupid stunt he pulled— _and_ you.”

Silence fell as Ignis elbowed Gladio in the ribs, and Prompto looked hesitantly to Noctis, who still hadn’t lifted his head. He wasn’t about to mention their kiss, not in front of Gladio and Ignis, but he knew that people often did impulsive, unexpected things when they thought their lives might be on the line, and he wondered if that’s all the kiss was.

It irked Prompto that deep down, he wanted it to be something more—something real.

_Don’t be stupid, you’ve already been fooled once._

Unfortunately, he also knew it was the least of his worries. If Verstael was missing and the research facility destroyed, it essentially meant he was homeless.

“How will I finish school?” he asked aloud, to which Gladio scoffed.

“Finish school? You really want to go back to the academy?”

Honestly, it wasn’t a matter of what Prompto wanted, only that it was all that he had left to return to—that, and the fact that he literally had nothing else going for him. Without an education there was no chance for him to get out of Insomnia. Verstael had made that expressly clear.

“We have time to worry about the academy later. Besides, if Headmaster Izunia is a conspirator in your father’s plan as you told Noctis, it would be in your best interest not to return until the situation is dealt with,” Ignis sought to elaborate while the prince let go of Prompto’s hand and scooted aside, creating space.

Noctis looked agitated, glaring up at the ceiling as he folded his arms. “Dad took us all out of school for our ‘safety.’ There’s no way we’re letting you go back there.”

Unable to help himself, Prompto laughed, indignation and his near-death experience emboldening him.

“ _Letting_ me go back? That’s funny.” The tension in the room was tangible, Ignis and Gladio both shifting uneasily.

“Yeah, how am I supposed to protect you if I can’t go with you?” Noctis demanded. The two upperclassman exchanged a knowing look, and Prompto felt his anger building.

“I never asked you to protect me, you know!” he said in a raised voice that sent throbs through his side.

Ignis coughed pointedly. “We will leave you two to discuss this in private,” he announced then, and with a nod to Gladio, left the room. The prince’s Shield followed, shutting the door behind them.

Now alone with Noctis, Prompto’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he crossed his arms defensively. “You don’t get to tell me what to do just because you saved my life. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, you mean like how you defended yourself against Ravus? _Twice_?” the prince raged, now on his feet and pacing back and forth.

“Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been hanging out with you, Ravus never would have attacked me in the first place,” Prompto replied, which only served to add fuel to the fire. Noctis stopped, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“So, this is all _my_ fault now?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Prompto shot back.

_Although maybe it is._

It wasn’t fair to blame Noctis—he had saved his life, after all, but there was no way that Prompto could ever repay him for it. What did you give to someone who already had everything? He’d be in Noctis’s debt forever, a precarious position that he didn’t appreciate.

“What _are_ you saying then?” Noctis asked. His jaw was clenched, storm-cloud eyes the same as the first day they had met.

“Just a couple of days ago you were telling your dad that we were just friends, and I didn’t think we were even that anymore, and then you—” Prompto gulped, holding in the tears that were forming as his lower lip trembled, emotions shifting from defensive to desperate. “—kissed me while I was on the ground with a bullet in my chest, and I—what am I—how am I supposed to—I’ve got nothing, I’m a _nobody_! And you’re—” The sob won out, and Prompto buried his face in his hands, utterly ashamed. “—you’re a _prince_ , Noctis, and I don’t even know what _I_ am anymore, but I’m definitely not good enough for you.”

The sound of his cries filled the room, and he felt his heart breaking for what felt like the thousandth time in a month.

_I can’t do this. What’s the point of anything, anymore?_

The sensation of warm, firm arms encircling him made Prompto’s eyes flutter open from where he had squeezed them shut, and Noctis’s nose and forehead came to touch his, surprisingly tender.

“I don’t care who you are or where you came from. You’re good enough for me—you always have been, and you always will be,” he stated evenly. “Seeing you get shot, it…it made me realize that I went about all of this all wrong, and I know I was stupid, but I hope you can forgive me.”

When Noctis kissed him this time, it was unhurried, but equally passionate. Prompto thought that he had never been breathless like this before; he was floating on air, and despite the turmoil inside him, the flicker of hope that had since gone out was reignited.

Prompto was soon returning the kiss, lips moving carefully at first, then more decisively as Noctis’s hand cradled the back of his head, and he got lost in the moment, concentrating on the way the prince felt.

It was different with Noctis than it was with Gladio. The prince wasn’t big. His strength was drawn from a quiet place that few could see, but Prompto felt like he was being invited into that place, now trusted with the prince’s heart and not only his body. Within the shelter Noctis created, he felt safe.

When the kiss came to its natural end, they didn’t move, keeping their heads together as if neither of them wanted to be the first to pull away.

Prompto wished he could feel like this forever, but a knock on the door had them jumping to attention guiltily, as if they were two children caught reaching into a cookie jar.

As King Regis walked into the room, they both acted like nothing had happened, straightening out of respect for the ruler and the man accompanying him, Marshal Cor Leonis.

Although it was awkward sitting down, Prompto bowed at the waist, immediately regretting the action as it disrupted the sensitive skin surrounding his wound. Noctis looked concerned by his wince, but the blond focused on the king. He wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important, and Prompto had a hunch that it wasn’t to deliver good news.

“Prompto, I am relieved to see you awake,” King Regis said. Marshal Leonis stood just inside the door, hardened gaze trained straight ahead. “How are you feeling?”

_Is this a trick question?_

“Um…pretty good. I figure I’m alive, so that’s better than not. Thanks for asking, Your Majesty.” He hoped it didn’t come off as too casual, but he was beginning to feel tired already, and he was more concerned with when he’d be able to nap than formalities.

“Certainly,” the king answered. Wasting no time, he went on to say, “Marshal Leonis will be your temporary guardian for the time being. Feel free to treat this room as your own while you recover. I trust that Noctis has explained the situation?”

_Oh, you mean that my dad shot me, went MIA and left me alone with no home, no money, and no future?_

“Yes, he did,” Prompto agreed simply. The sooner this conversation could end, the better. He hoped to sleep for ten years afterwards.

“My sincere apologies, but please do not leave the Citadel until you are given express permission by the Marshal or myself. It is for your own safety,” King Regis said, tone regretful, but all Prompto heard was confirmation of his suspicions—he was a prisoner now.

This might be his one and only opportunity to advocate for himself, and even if it was to the King of Lucis, he wanted to take it.

“Your Majesty, if possible, I’d like to keep going to the academy. Since my dad is…missing, I don’t have much else going for me—sir.” He feared he might sound ungrateful, but King Regis smiled, which he took as a good sign. The Marshal, on the other hand, didn’t react at all, waiting for his liege to decide. Noctis was the only one who appeared dismayed, eyes widening slightly at Prompto’s request.

“We will see what arrangements can be made. For now, focus on healing. The doctor will be by shortly to check on you. If you need anything before then, there are Glaives stationed in the hall.”

Noctis’s father inclined his head, and Prompto returned the gesture, stunned by the king’s willingness to accommodate him. The Marshal nodded at him once before giving Noctis a strange look, like maybe he knew something was going on between the two of them—but that could have just been Prompto’s paranoia talking.

They left as quickly as they had come, and he and Noctis were alone once more.

“You can’t be serious,” the prince groaned.

“Listen dude, if I’m going to trust you, you need to trust me too, alright?” He spoke with a levity that he didn’t have to force for a change, and Noctis flopped beside him, eyes sliding shut as he curled against Prompto’s side.

“…fine,” he huffed. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

It seemed strangely intimate for Prompto to run his fingers through Noctis’s hair, but he couldn’t help himself. The prince hummed in response to the contact, seemingly unbothered by it, and Prompto was suddenly smiling, giddy.

“Alright, that’s fair.”

They sat in silence for a while, no longer uncomfortable, and Prompto was almost asleep by the time Noctis spoke again.

“Hey, Prompto?”

“Mm…? Yeah?” He tried to focus, but kept his eyes closed.

“…I’m glad you’re okay.”

 _I’m glad you’re still alive_ , is what he probably meant. Prompto wormed his way horizontal, entangling his limbs with Noctis’s, the prince’s skin smooth against his.

“Me too. Thanks for saving me,” Prompto whispered.

In the stillness, he could hear his own heart beating, a sweet lullaby all its own.

* * *

_“What’s that smile for?” Noctis was asking._

_They were sitting on the end of a dock, bare feet grazing the water with their jeans rolled up to their knees to keep their clothes from getting wet._

_The pool was crystal clear, and it reflected the cityscape. Insomnia hung above, inverted in the sky._

_It seemed right, even if the dock didn’t lead to anything._

_Just the two of them, no cares in the world._

_Noctis skipped a stone across the glass-like surface of the lake that went all the way to the horizon, and ripples of light shot out where it hit, each ring a different color._

_“I’m happy,” Prompto said. He had Noctis’s leather jacket pulled around him._

_It wasn’t hot, and it wasn’t cold. It was perfect._

_“Me too.” And Noctis dove in the water, pulling Prompto with him._

_They were laughing, and it echoed pleasantly._

_It was warm in the lake, and Prompto felt warmer when Noctis kissed him on the cheek._

_They floated aimlessly for a while._

_Staring up at the city, suspended in space and time—it felt easy._

_“I don’t want to go back,” Noctis was saying._

_“Back home?”_

_Where was home now? Prompto couldn’t remember._

_“No, back there,” Noctis answered cryptically._

_“I’m here,” Prompto reassured him, reaching for his hand and finding it._

_“Yeah, I know.”_

_The world passed them by, but they didn’t mind. They held hands and let the water carry them._


	18. DTR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that he is recovering in the Citadel, Prompto has a lot of time to think about his future, and whether or not it will involve Noctis.

The Citadel had the best doctors and healing magic that Lucis had to offer, and Prompto was assured that he would be back on his feet in several days, a modern miracle. Unfortunately, that didn’t come with the promise that he would be allowed to leave the premises once he recovered, but he figured he would cross that bridge when he got there.

During the first couple of days, people came and went on a rotating basis—Noctis, Ignis, Gladio, or a combination of the three. Sometimes Marshal Leonis would make an appearance, but Prompto never saw the king again, which was maybe for the best.

Noctis brought Prompto his homework the second day, courtesy of their teachers ( _hooray_ ), and they turned the TV on in the background, mostly to muffle the sound of their make out session and laughter, and although Prompto wasn’t exactly fit for rigorous activity, the pain was _definitely_ worth it.

He wasn’t sure if they were dating now, and he was almost afraid to ask. Their relationship had gone through a series of evolutions in a short amount of time: from strangers, to friends, to fake boyfriends, to strangers again, and finally— _this_.

 _This_ was nice, even if it wasn’t dating. Friends with benefits, maybe? Noctis’s mouth and hands were on Prompto, and for once, it wasn’t causing him to have an absolute meltdown. They fit together in a way that Prompto hadn’t fit with Gladio, and there was a comfort to it, like they had known each other for years and not weeks.

There would come a time where they would need to have the define-the-relationship talk, but it was easy to forget all of the bad and focus on the good when Noctis gripped Prompto’s hip as if he belonged to the prince.

Belonging was nice, and it was _new_. Prompto wanted to protect the feeling at all costs.

Their schoolwork had been all but forgotten until a breaking news headline flashed across the screen— _Headmaster of the Insomnian Academy for the Elite Reported Missing_. Any desire Prompto had, physical or otherwise, was immediately squashed, and he pulled away mid-kiss to stare at the television, Noctis’s head turning to see what he was gawking at.

“Don’t worry, they’ll find him,” Noctis said before trying to kiss him again.

Prompto wasn’t so sure, and after a minute of half-hearted reciprocation, he eventually told Noctis he was too tired to do anything more than cuddle.

_Sorry, dude—rain check?_

From then on, Prompto kept the TV off, the news story updates scrolling continuously along the bottom of the screen no matter which channel he turned to.

He wondered if Headmaster Izunia had delivered on his promise to Verstael, and what they planned to do with the Prompto copies if he had. One thing was for certain: it couldn’t be anything good.

Ignis and Gladio took their turn visiting on the third day under the pretense of helping Prompto study, but he saw the way they kept close to one another, practically connected at the hip, and how Gladio used any excuse to put his hands on Ignis, tucking away a loose strand of hair or fixing the collar of his shirt. The less-than-subtle touches made Prompto’s heart hurt stupidly. When Gladio caught him staring, Prompto tried to look away, but the senior was too smart for that.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Gladio offered a sheepish grin. “Hey, Prompto, I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but—”

“You two finally together? It’s cool, I’m happy for you guys,” Prompto blurted. He really didn’t want to have to talk about their _not_ -relationship in front of Ignis. Just the thought of it was mortifying.

“It wouldn’t have happened if not for you,” Ignis admitted, much to Prompto’s surprise. “Your courage was just the push I needed to convince me to try again, although the road will be long and complicated. So, thank you, Prompto.”

“Sure, no problem. Glad I could help.” Prompto watched as Gladio planted a kiss on Ignis’s temple, and the upperclassmen smiled full, _giddy_ smiles, and godsdamn, they were absolutely perfect, of course they were.

But it begged the question—how the _hell_ were Prompto and Noctis going to make this work? Noctis Lucis Caelum was the heir to the throne and betrothed to Princess Lunafreya, and unlike Gladio and Ignis who _both_ came from prestigious families, the prince was messing around with a lowly Niff bastard whose father had committed treason against the Crown.

It was far from an ideal relationship; it was a dumpster fire. Their romance was doomed from the start, and Prompto’s brain wouldn’t let him forget that it wasn’t meant to last.

When Ignis and Gladio finally left, arms hooked around each other like an old married couple, Prompto crawled under the comforter and stayed there for the rest of the day.

By day four, Prompto’s body felt almost back to normal, and he knew he was going to need to have some tough conversations soon, namely the DTR with Noctis that he had been avoiding. He was mentally steeling himself— _you can do this, Prompto_ —when Marshal Leonis knocked and stepped into the room, not waiting to be invited in.

Prompto wasn’t sure what to think of the Marshal. Or, more accurately, what the man thought of _him_. The military leader was always courteous when he stopped by, but he never stayed for long. Of course, he had to be a pretty busy guy, what with overseeing the Crownsguard and security for the Citadel, which made it even more confusing as to why he made time to see an orphaned, teenage boy who could potentially be his enemy.

“How are you?” the Marshal asked without preamble.

“Um, good—sir. Thanks.” Prompto finished eating the last of his breakfast and slid his plate across the table that he was sitting at. He wasn’t sure whether to salute, but he stood at attention, nonetheless.

“Good.” There was a beat of silence as the Marshal scanned Prompto, and the teenager had to force himself not to react to his calculating gaze, eerily similar to Ignis’s. “Your father and Ardyn Izunia were spotted boarding a train to Niflheim. Unfortunately, we have no way of pursuing them without launching a full-scale attack.”

Prompto wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel, but he was sure he should have felt more than just numb.

“Oh.” He shrugged. “No biggie. Guess that means I can get out of your hair soon then, huh?”

Never mind the fact that he didn’t have a home or any money to his name—or that he was a meager fifteen years old. He was used to being on his own though, so did it make that much of a difference? He hoped not.

_I’ve got this. No sweat._

A subtle shift occurred in the Marshal’s expression, a slight furrowing of his eyebrows as he shook his head to the left and then to the right.

“That’s not…” His frown deepened, accompanied by a sigh. “Unfortunately, that’s not how this is going to work. With your father deemed an enemy of the state, and with no other living relatives, you will need to be placed in witness protection.”

Prompto’s face must have done something weird, because the Marshal felt the need to explain.

“It’s similar to foster care in some ways. You will be assigned a family who will care for you until you come of age and can move out on your own. His Majesty has agreed to continue paying for your tuition to the academy—if you so choose.”

There was a sick feeling stirring in Prompto’s stomach, and he felt his breaths quickening as his panic level spiked.

“Can’t I just—live at the academy? I won’t cause any trouble, I promise.” His voice broke embarrassingly in the middle of the sentence, and he gripped the back of a nearby chair to anchor himself in the moment.

“It is for your own safety, Prompto,” he stated, but he looked sympathetic, stern face softening.

The boy spread his hands helplessly. Throughout Prompto’s entire life everything had been decided for him by Verstael, and now, even without his father around, he didn’t seem to have any control over his own destiny.

 _This fucking sucks_.

“I just…want to be normal.”

But he knew even that was impossible, the secret that he was determined to bury floating just beneath the surface, waiting to be discovered—there were clones that wore his face, and he kept seeing them every time he closed his eyes, unable to escape the truth.

_I’ll never be normal._

Prompto’s only hope was to get out of Insomnia, but that was becoming more of a lost cause.

“Let me—let me prove it to you. I can live on my own. Just tell me what to do to convince you.” The words coming out of his mouth suspiciously resembled groveling, but he was past the point of caring what he sounded like.

Marshal Leonis was unreadable as he studied Prompto, and he waited so long to speak that the boy feared he might not answer at all, but then he did something unexpected—he chuckled.

“Let me see what I can work out.”

“Wait—really?” Prompto was cautiously hopeful, but tried not to show it, and the Marshal nodded.

“As long as the proper security measures are in place, I don’t see why not. After all, I was on my own when I was your age.”

The vote of confidence was all Prompto needed. Unable to contain himself, he let out a short whoop of excitement.

“Thank you! I promise you won’t regret it, Mister, uh, Marshal—Leonis—sir.”

The man was smiling, and Prompto thought maybe he should be worried by it, but he figured he deserved something good.

_Just this once._

“No promises. I still have to get permission.”

It was a strange thing for Prompto to wrap his head around. “ _You_ have to get permission? Don’t you, like, make the laws, or something?”

The man actually laughed at that, and Prompto tried not to think about the fact that he was standing in the same room with Insomnia’s most famous soldier—and that he was laughing at something _he_ had said.

_Maybe this won’t be all bad._

“You’re a strange one, kid.” Prompto decided to take it as a compliment. “But no, I don’t make the laws—I just help enforce them. I will have an answer for you soon, just have patience.”

“Patience is my middle name!” he chirped, and this time he did salute, just for good measure. He needed all the allies he could get.

The door creaked open then, and Prompto felt his heart flutter when Noctis appeared from behind it.

“Noctis,” the Marshal greeted, inclining his head.

“Oh, hey Cor. Do I need to come back later…?” The prince’s eyes cut over to Prompto with unveiled interest, and the blond could feel his face reddening.

 _Keep it together, Prompto_.

“No, I was just on my way out, come in.” As Noctis did so, the Marshal fished a cell phone from his jacket and held it out to Prompto. “I was instructed to give you this, since your old phone was destroyed in the facility fire. It’s Crownsguard issued, but we were able to keep your old number. My information has been added in the event you need to contact me.” With another nod to Noctis, he headed towards the exit. “I’ll be in touch.”

Prompto was still inspecting the phone when Marshal Leonis left the room, belatedly realizing he hadn’t even thanked him for it. He imagined he would have a chance later though. Right now, he had another hurdle to overcome, and its name was Noctis Lucis Caelum.

“You’re looking a lot better,” Noctis said. The prince was stepping into Prompto’s personal space before the blond could reply, already moving in for a kiss, but instinct took over, and Prompto’s hands came up to press lightly against Noctis’s chest, holding him back.

“Hey, um, can we talk?”

It wasn’t the most elegant way to start off, and Noctis’s head tilted in his confusion.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

Grabbing the prince by the hand, Prompto led him to the bed and pulled him into a seated position, leaving space between them. Taking a deep breath, he chose not to beat around the bush, knowing that his nervousness meant the fewer words, the better, as his thoughts were likely to come out wrong the more he spoke.

“What—what are we? What is this?” He gestured between them, trying to maintain eye contact.

Noctis snorted. “I mean, isn’t it obvious?” When he saw that Prompto’s expression didn’t change, he scowled. “Wait, seriously? Prompto, I _like_ you.”

“Okay, great—I mean, I like you too—but what are we doing?” Prompto prodded, wishing he could better communicate his fears without sounding like a total basket case.

Pulling his feet up, Noctis crossed his legs at the ankles, not answering right away. He was looking past Prompto, shoulders bunched around his ears like a dog with its hackles raised.

“Well, I thought we were dating,” he huffed moodily.

Prompto’s stomach flip-flopped, staggered by the bluntness of the statement.

_Dating—he wants to date me for real._

“Cool, um, I’m glad,” Prompto admitted, fighting back the butterflies inside him. “…It’s just that, well—how is this going to work?”

Noctis was immediately defensive again, on his feet in a matter of seconds to create more distance. “I don’t know, Prompto, I mean, how does dating work in general?”

He grimaced, dismayed that the talk was going sideways so quickly and desperate to correct it. “That’s just what I’m saying, I don’t _know_. And I want to date you too, but it just seems so impractical—”

“ _Impractical_?” Noctis interrupted. Now he was angry, hands balling into fists at his side.

“Just listen, okay?” Prompto spoke in a rush, trying to get everything out while the situation snowballed in front of him. “You’re the _prince_ , right? And you’re engaged—to a _princess_ —which you should be! So maybe it’s better if—if we don’t—I mean, we probably shouldn’t do this—”

“I get it.” The prince said flatly. He was shutting down, and Prompto could see that he was losing him, but he didn’t know what else to say.

It was a last-ditch effort, be he needed to try—Noctis deserved that much. “I _want_ to be with you, Noct, but it just doesn’t make any sense, you know? You’re _you_ , and I’m—” _A Niff bastard. A freak. A monster. A loser._ “—just me,” Prompto finished, exasperated and drained.

A vein in Noctis’s jaw visibly pulsed, and Prompto’s stomach soured as the prince turned away dismissively.

“Alright. If that’s what you think.”

 _Maybe this is for the best_.

But then, why did it hurt so much?

Noctis was heading for the door, and Prompto wanted to scream—to throw himself on the ground at his feet and beg for him to stay, but instead he remained motionless, tears blurring his vision.

The prince paused with his hand on the doorknob, speaking low without turning around. “I told you once, and I’ll tell you again. I don’t _care_ where you come from, or who you are. I care about you. It’s that simple, Prompto. I just wish you’d believe me.”

There was a click when Noctis turned the handle, and another when he closed the door behind him, yet Prompto still didn’t move.

Something was happening in his body. It was as if he had been shot again, a terrible pain now permeating through him, and he crumpled to his knees when it became too difficult to remain standing, clinging to the bedside to keep from falling face down onto the floor.

 _So much for defining the relationship,_ he thought.

There was no need to if he wasn’t in one.

* * *

It rained the next day, and the next, which was fitting.

Prompto didn’t get out of bed except to go to the bathroom, barely eating the food that was brought to him. He turned the TV on as a distraction, but found that he never watched it, the laugh-track of a gameshow like a slap in the face.

He turned it back off, and the room was quiet except for the sound of the rain falling outside.

Prompto didn’t notice Ignis standing in the room at first. He wore a black suit, blending into the shadows like a grim reaper. When the senior finally approached the foot of the bed and made himself known, Prompto was almost disappointed that he wasn’t a spirit meant to drag him to hell.

At least then, he would have bigger things to worry about than a broken heart.

“Noctis told me what happened,” Ignis explained as he pulled up a chair.

Prompto was too tired for pretenses, so he continued to watch the rivulets of water that were currently streaming down a nearby window, not acknowledging the announcement.

“You must understand, he is receiving pressure from all sides regarding his future, which now also involves you. It is not a simple boyhood crush, Prompto. I, of all people, understand what you two are going through, and I would like to help in any way that I can.”

The words washed over him, rubbing alcohol in his open wounds.

“You _understand_?” Prompto’s laugh was staccato and harsh. He looked at Ignis then, wanting nothing more than to push him away, but Ignis remained calm and collected, waiting to hear more. “No offense, but I seriously doubt it.”

“He told his father about his feelings for you,” Ignis murmured, and Prompto’s heart stopped, brought violently to attention. “Needless to say, many believe his decision to pursue a relationship with Verstael Besithia’s son to be foolhardy and impractical, perhaps even a plot orchestrated by your father to get closer to Noctis.” He never blinked, watching Prompto like a hawk circling. A stab of betrayal at the accusation made Prompto draw a sharp breath, but Ignis wasn’t done. “However, after weeks of sharing your company, I have come to the conclusion that you are incapable of deceiving anyone, woefully inept at hiding your emotions, and frankly, too innocent to know any better, and I told His Majesty as much when he asked for my opinion.”

Prompto processed Ignis’s critique slowly, nodding once. “…thanks, I think?”

A smile flickered across the upperclassman’s lips. “Noctis can be irrational at times, and he’s certainly stubborn, but he is also an excellent judge of character, and loyal to a fault. If he has chosen you, then we will stand by you.”

There was just one problem. Prompto had already told Noctis that he thought it wasn’t a good idea for them to be together. The prince had wanted to fight for him, but Prompto had given him up, and he wasn’t sure if Noctis would forgive him for it.

“It’s not worth it,” Prompto said, returning his gaze to the window.

“Pardon?”

Outside, a flash of lightning danced across the sky, backlighting the darkened buildings. Prompto could see Ignis’s worried face reflected in the glass, and the thunder cracked almost immediately afterwards, rattling the windows. In his chest, Prompto’s heart battered against his ribs, breaking more with every beat.

“Me. I’m not worth it. And I won’t let him throw away everything for me.”

They sat and listened to the storm raging for a couple of minutes. For once, Ignis had no witty comment or sage advice to offer, and he eventually got to his feet, albeit reluctantly.

“Only the two of you can make that choice, but for what it’s worth, you bring out the best in him.”

Ignis’s declaration was tinged with regret, and Prompto lay there long after he made his exit, grateful that the thunder was able to drown out the sounds of his sobs.

* * *

It had been only a week since Prompto had been outside, but after being confined to a room for seven days it felt much longer than that, the vastness of the wide-open space now overwhelming. He stood on the steps of the Citadel and tried not to look up at the building as it glistened in the morning sun, dizzy from the sheer size of it.

_Can you get vertigo while you’re on the ground?_

Marshal Leonis had informed him the night before that he had been given permission to allow Prompto to return to the academy and live on campus, under the condition that the student perform daily check-ins with him. In addition, a member of the Crownsguard would be stationed at the school at all times. The Marshal reassured him that it was more as a resource should Prompto need them, and not as a babysitter or watchdog, but he wasn’t convinced. Still, it was better than the alternative, so the teenager said his thanks and accepted the terms without complaining.

Even so, now that the day had come to return to the Insomnian Academy for the Elite, Prompto was beginning to have second thoughts.

_What if everyone else is right and I can’t make it on my own?_

He could hear Verstael in his head, telling him, “You’ll never survive without me, you worthless experiment!” And he was inclined to believe it.

_What the hell am I trying to prove? This is dumb._

When Marshal Leonis pulled up to the curb in a sleek black car, Prompto was still trying to make up his mind on what to do, taking a hesitant step towards the vehicle when the door swung open.

“Ready to go?” the man asked, hands resting on the steering wheel.

 _Not really, but what choice do I have?_ He couldn’t stay at the Citadel indefinitely, at least, not if he wanted to keep his dignity intact.

The engine was running, and Prompto didn’t think the Marshal would appreciate being kept waiting, so he slid into the front seat and buckled himself in without a word. He figured his actions would speak for themselves.

When they drove down the academy driveway sometime later, he noticed that the cherry blossom trees lining it were just now starting to bloom, and he got a surreal sense of déjà vu. Then again, it could have just been his budding anxiety.

“Don’t forget to check in with me tonight,” Marshal Leonis instructed once they rolled to a stop. Prompto didn’t think he could forget, even if he wanted to, and he fidgeted with his tie nervously as he got out, the new and freshly pressed uniform still stiff at the seams and tight in all the wrong places.

He had no idea he could feel even more self-conscious than he already did, but he forced a smile anyway.

_Fake it ‘til you make it, right?_

“Gotcha. Thanks, Marshal.”

“Good luck, kid.”

Prompto watched until the car disappeared down the drive before taking a deep breath and facing the entrance to the academy. His legs carried him through the double doors, one hand gripping his briefcase tight.

The bell must have rung, for the halls were busy with students rushing to class, and Prompto stood among them, a stone in a tumultuous stream.

As he was looking towards the office, something hard hit him in the shoulder. Caught off guard, he stumbled forward, barely managing to keep himself upright as his briefcase went flying. There was a chorus of snickers, and his eyes jumped towards the noise. He spied a trio of boys grinning wolfishly over their shoulders at him, on their way to first period.

“Welcome back, Argentum,” one called out before rounding a corner. Their laughter echoed in their wake.

Others gave Prompto disdainful looks as he squatted to collect his things, and a pair of girls heading in the other direction whispered behind their hands as they turned their noses up at him.

The blond sighed heavily. It looked like he had his work cut out for him now that he was back to being friendless, but what else was new?

 _You can do this, Prompto_.

At least, he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original, Cor becomes Prompto's guardian after his father goes MIA, and I kept that to an extent in this version, although their interactions are a little different. Dad!Cor is best Cor, in my humble opinion


	19. Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto returns to school and receives a less-than-warm welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: bullying and derogatory language/slurs

“I heard that he fucked around with the prince and was locked up in the Citadel for a week for it.”

Prompto wasn’t sure that he had heard right, but the snippet of conversation made him come to a complete stop in the lunch line, and he craned his neck as he searched for its source.

“Is that why his dad left town?” another voice was saying behind him, and he located a pair of students a few people down.

“Who knows? I mean, the guy probably abandoned him because he figured he was more trouble than he’s worth.” The girl laughed harshly, clearly not caring that Prompto was within earshot, and the student behind him nudged him in his back, pushing him forward.

“Keep moving, Argentum,” they grumbled. “You’re holding up the line.”

Prompto kept his head down as he piled food that he knew he wasn’t going to eat onto his tray and tried to block out the idle gossip that seemed to surround him on all sides.

It had been like this all morning—the dirty looks and snickers, the occasional ‘accidental’ bump in the hallway, and his favorite, the spit balls to the back of his head.

_Welcome back, Prompto. It’s like you never left._

He was heading to his designated booth in the far corner of the crowded room when he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. It was dumb luck that when he turned, he also stepped aside, and he barely avoided getting a tray dumped on him by a muscled upperclassman.

As the plate clattered onto his intended table, food splattered across the booth and onto the ground, the cafeteria quieting momentarily in response to the unexpected commotion.

“Whoops. Sorry, I thought this was a trash can,” the boy sneered. There was an echo of laughter as he grinned down at Prompto, daring him to defend himself, but Prompto merely averted his gaze and began using some of the napkins in his hand to wipe off the table.

He’d learned his lesson the hard way one too many times.

Seeing that Prompto wasn’t going to take the bait, the student made another snide remark that he ignored before sauntering away.

It took a few minutes and several trips to retrieve more napkins before the booth was usable again, and Prompto was sliding into his seat when a timid voice made itself known.

“Prompto?”

He startled, banging one knee against the underside of the table as he misjudged his position, then moaned, grabbing at the throbbing joint as he bit back a curse word.

“Ah—sorry! Are you alright?” Thankfully, it was only Yuna, but she was reaching towards him with wide eyes as if she wanted to help somehow, and it caused Prompto to shy away, unwilling to transfer his social stigma onto her. She hesitated when she saw his reaction, instead choosing to tuck a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “Um, I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah? Well, you might be the only one.” The reply was more sarcastic than he intended, and Prompto mentally kicked himself.

_Yuna has only ever been nice to you. Stop being a jerk._

“I’m sorry that you are having a difficult time, but don’t let them get to you,” she said encouragingly.

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he simply nodded.

She didn’t ask to sit down, and Prompto wasn’t going to tell her to leave, so when the girl joined him in the booth, he merely hung his head, hoping that the conversation would end quickly.

“I know you probably have a lot on your mind right now, but I was wondering if you were still willing to perform at the spring show with me since it’s at the end of this week.”

_Crap._

With everything that had been going on, he had completely forgotten about the spring show, and now he found himself wishing that he had never made the promise to help her. Standing in front of the school body that obviously despised him was on the very bottom of the list of things he wanted to do, especially if it meant Yuna would be dragged down along with him, but the student had that bright look in her eyes, the one he could never say no to.

“Oh—right. Yeah, I told you I would, so. Um, of course I’ll be there, if you’re sure you still want a partner…like me.”

He secretly prayed that she would see the error of her ways, but instead she clapped her hands, immediately brightening.

“Of course, thank you so much!” she gushed, already shimmying back out of the booth.

_Well, at least I can make someone happy—right?_

Although he was one hundred percent certain her joy was misplaced, he’d do his best not to let her down.

_Guess I need to practice tonight._

“Sure thing,” he said with more nonchalance than he felt.

“See you later, Prompto!” Yuna’s smile was a gift he didn’t deserve, and he tried to return the favor as she gave a wave and flitted away, disappearing beyond a grouping of students.

He pushed his food around with his fork after that, his appetite destroyed by the unease in the pit of his stomach as he continued to overhear his fellow peers talking about him.

“I heard he’s the reason why the prince broke off his engagement to Princess Lunafreya.”

Prompto perked up as he walked over to the trash can to dump his tray, the shocking declaration catching his attention.

“Wait, is that true? I thought it was just a rumor,” a boy with his back to him said. It was exactly what Prompto wished he could ask, and he leaned in a little, straining to hear the answer.

“Nope, my dad told me. Apparently, Tenebrae isn’t very happy about it.”

 _I didn’t ask for any of this_ , Prompto thought angrily, now in a hurry to leave. On top of his personal feelings, he had to worry about the political implications of what he had done, a burden he was ill-equipped to carry.

 _No wonder everyone is pissed. This is a disaster_.

He left the cafeteria early, and nobody bothered to stop him. Prompto was aware that although he might be the topic of everyone’s conversations, there wasn’t anyone at the academy who cared enough to pay him any real attention.

At least, so he thought.

Prompto found the first sign that something was wrong when he approached his dorm room door. The knob was hanging at a weird angle, and when he reached to turn it, the door pushed open, the lock obviously broken.

He paused, suddenly on high alert.

_Is someone in my room?_

“Hello…?” he called tentatively. There was no response, but that didn’t mean anything. Someone could be lying in wait to jump him, or maybe this was someone’s idea of a prank. Honestly, nothing would surprise him at this point.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god—_

Prompto tiptoed inside, thinking he probably should invest in some type of weapon, and he wielded his briefcase like a shield, but what he found wasn’t at all what he expected.

The briefcase slipped free of his fingers and landed with a thud as he took in the room, mouth dropping open.

Most glaring was the graffiti, slurs written in garish red spray point taking up every inch of the walls.

_Niff bastard_

_Faggot_

_Bitch_

When he was finally able to tear his eyes away, other details became evident—a broken chair, missing bed sheets, a shattered window—and he sunk down into a crouch, sandwiching his head between his hands as if it would block out the world.

“What’s happening?” he whispered to himself. “What the hell did I do to deserve this?” His lower lip started to quiver, and he bit down to stop it.

_I’m not crying over these jerks. No way._

A thought popped into his head then, and he was too worried over it to stay sad for long. A few steps took him to the closet, and he threw it open, sinking onto his knees to pull boxes and clothes aside. In the back of the closet, safe where he had left it, was his guitar.

It would have felt ingenuine to thank the gods, but he did cradle the instrument against his chest like a mother would its child, grateful for the single stroke of luck.

But Prompto was still left with a huge problem— _where am I supposed to sleep?_

He couldn’t imagine that whoever had vandalized his room would be content to leave him alone, not if they went through all the trouble of breaking in and destroying everything in sight.

For a split second, he considered calling Noctis to ask for help, or maybe even Gladio to vent, but he quickly stifled the notion.

_I have to be able to do this on my own. I don’t need them._

With guitar in hand, Prompto headed back into the hallway and to the nearest stairwell where he climbed to the third floor. It was quiet with it being the middle of the day, and he made it to the chapel’s doors without running into anyone else.

It was the only place he could think of where he could be alone. As far as he knew, no one visited the church—well, except for that _one_ time, but that was an extraordinary circumstance.

Like he suspected, the sanctuary was empty, and he proceeded down the aisle to the front pew, unable to resist glancing at the window he had fallen out of. It was strangely unassuming, and it was wild to think that only a handful of people knew what had transpired in front of it.

The wooden bench wasn’t the most comfortable, but Prompto did his best to relax against it, pulling the guitar into his lap, deciding that now was as good a time as any to practice for the spring show.

Playing from memory, he ran through Yuna’s song once, then twice. After dusting off his skills, he was able to close his eyes as he strummed and picked at the strings, allowing the rich notes to reverberate into the arched ceilings.

Without the energy to sing, Prompto hummed the lyrics.

_I know you’re hurting, but so am I…_

His fingers stopped moving of their own volition, his sigh blending in with the fading chords.

* * *

_Buzz-buzz!_

The vibration in Prompto’s pocket rattled against the pew and he jerked awake, unaware that he had fallen asleep in the first place. A sharp twinge in his neck quickly reminded him that snoozing while upright wasn’t in his best interest, and he flexed it from side to side, trying to work out its kinks.

After stretching, he warily took out his cell, surprised to see that it was already midafternoon.

A number he didn’t recognize had messaged him, and he clicked on the thread with trepidation, fully expecting more harassment.

Unknown Number  
  
Hello, this is Luna, Noctis gave me your number, I hope that’s alright. Sorry to bother you, but could you meet in the infirmary? It won’t take long.   
  


Prompto sat up straighter, now completely awake, knee bouncing up and down as his anxious thoughts ran rampant.

_What could she possibly want with me? Am I in trouble? Did Ravus put her up to this? Is this a trap?_

Then again, he imagined that Noctis wouldn’t have given her his number if he thought she would do something bad, but there was only one way to be sure.

Curiosity winning out, Prompto tucked his guitar carefully underneath the bench he was sitting on for safe keeping, took a deep breath, and walked out of the church to the infirmary just a short distance away.

Like usual, Luna was sitting behind the front desk, and she looked up from whatever she was writing to smile disarmingly when he came through the sliding doors. Prompto stopped just short of the counter, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

“Well, that was fast. Thank you for coming,” she greeted.

Luna stood, motioning for him to sit in one of the chairs along the wall, but Prompto remained standing. He wanted to have an easy escape route if he needed one. Not that he had anything against the princess, but he was learning that it would be best to push his feelings aside and trust no one.

“Yeah, of course,” he said stiffly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

To her credit, Luna didn’t seem to take any offense to Prompto’s standoffish behavior, her smile never wavering as she clasped her hands in front of her.

“I would have met with you sooner if not for your…ill health.”

The moment of hesitation made Prompto wonder what exactly she and Noctis had spoken about, but he doubted she would bring it up unless asked.

Prompto shrugged. At the end of the day, it wasn’t that important to him if she knew or not.

“That’s okay. You don’t need to talk to me—nobody else does.”

Even as Luna’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, her ethereal beauty remained unmarred. “Prompto, this may not be my place, but I spoke with Noctis concerning what my brother did to you.”

“O-oh?” he sputtered, instantly embarrassed.

“Yes,” the princess confirmed. “And although it may not mean much now, I am _so_ sorry for the pain he has inflicted on you.” There was sincerity in her tone, and an empathy for him that no one else at the academy possessed, but it only succeeded in making him more uncomfortable.

“Oh, yeah, well. It’s okay. It wasn’t _your_ fault.” One hand came up to brush awkwardly through his hair, and he tried not to look at Luna directly, her eyes giving the impression that she could see straight through him—maybe she could.

“Even so, as his sister, I feel responsible. In any case, Ravus and I are going back to Tenebrae soon. Rising tensions between Lucis and Niflheim have our council worried that a war is imminent, but I wanted you to know that I fully support you,” she declared, now taking a step closer to place a delicate hand on his arm, what he assumed was meant to be a show of solidarity.

“…support me?” Prompto questioned, still skeptical. He wasn’t sure what she was getting at, and he didn’t know if he liked the direction the conversation was headed.

“Yes— _both_ of you. Love is precious, Prompto, and powerful, and Noctis is going to need a friend like you to stand by his side in the years to come. I give you my blessing. I just wanted you to know that before we left.”

_Her blessing? She couldn’t possibly mean…?_

Blood shot through Prompto’s face and his ears went hot from the resulting blush.

“Oh, um, that’s really nice of you. Thanks, princess.”

_Is this actually happening? Am I still asleep? Could I be reading this all wrong? Probably._

Her hand squeezed his biceps, and it pulled him back to reality.

“Please, call me Luna. And if you are ever in need of anything, don’t hesitate to reach out to me.” Before he knew what was happening, Luna moved in, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace.

Unsure what to do at first, he held his arms out wide like a cactuar, blush deepening to crimson. “Oh— _oh_! Yeah, you too, Luna.” Then, very carefully, he returned the hug, patting her on the back until she pulled away. She beamed up at him just like Yuna was prone to, and he found that he couldn’t help but smile shyly in response.

“I need to get back to work, but thank you again for stopping by, and take care,” she said, bringing an end to the conversation.

“Of course. No problem.”

Still shell shocked from the interaction, Prompto watched Luna vanish in a room behind the desk, hearing the sound of a filing cabinet sliding open and the rustling of papers.

_What a weird day._

Scratching his head, he puttered out of the reception area and back into the main hall, idling there indecisively.

_Well…what now?_

It seemed like the universe was intent on making that decision for him though, for at that very moment, a familiar and unwelcome face became visible at the end of the hall—Ravus Nox Fleuret—and he was heading straight for him.

_Fuck!_

He wasn’t sure if Ravus had recognized him yet, but he also didn’t want to stick around and find out, so he did the first thing he could think of. Bolting into the nearest stairwell, he took the flight up to the roof.

It was a warm and breezy day, even more so on top of the castle-like academy building. Thanks to Prompto’s nap, the sun was just beginning to make its descent in the sky, honey-gold rays slanting at eye level above the trees, the perfect angle to blind him. Shielding his face against the light, Prompto made one slow revolution, belatedly realizing his mistake.

There was nowhere left to run.

A creaking of hinges confirmed his fears—Ravus had followed him.

“Stay back! Don’t touch me!” Prompto warned, backing away from the student’s silhouette.

His laugh was immediate, nails-on-a-chalkboard level of hair raising. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself Argentum, I haven’t come to hurt you, although I was surprised you returned without your guard dogs.”

Prompto was dismayed when he felt his body rub up against the outer wall, and he tried to keep from squinting as he faced the Tenebraean prince.

“Then what _do_ you want, Ravus?” His tone stayed shockingly even despite the audacity of the challenge. He didn’t have a title to stand on, or powerful friends to back him up, but when backed into a corner the only option left is to fight your way out.

The sun on Ravus’s face only served to highlight his wicked smirk.

“Rather bold, aren’t you? It seems you have forgotten your place during your time away. No matter. Luckily for you, my sister and I will soon be leaving this hellhole, but do not be mistaken. You will never have peace so long as you live, not with your father being on the run from the law.”

Prompto wished he had a better poker face, as the prince’s chuckle told him that his stunned expression was plain as day.

“Oh, did you think no one would find out? You forget that I am a prince and am privy to information not released to the general public.”

Rendered speechless, it took Prompto several long moments to compose himself.

_Does this mean everyone knows?_

There was no point in playing coy, so Prompto opted for a different strategy. “I get it, alright? I don’t like my father either, but I’ve never done anything to you.”

Ravus was busy picking a piece of lint off the lapel of his jacket, apparently already bored.

“Not yet, perhaps, but you will. It’s true what they say—the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. No one can outrun the sins of their fathers.” The Tenebraean’s condescension was strengthened by his sneer. “Just remember, you can end it all here. Stepping over that wall would solve all of your problems.” He laughed again, but this time it was like a thousand needles pricking at Prompto’s skin.

When Prompto didn’t answer, Ravus seemed content to end it there. Not bothering to bid him farewell, he took his leave.

For the world around him to seem so beautiful after such an awful encounter was like a slap in the face, but Prompto still only felt numb.

As he stood near the edge of the roof, the student let his thoughts drift up into the clouds. The sky was an all-encompassing blue, and it threw him back to the dream he had where he and Noctis had floated together with the city overhead. Looking past the trees that cocooned the academy, he could see Insomnia in the distance, the ever-looming symbol of all his troubles whether he was sleeping or waking.

_Stepping over that wall would solve all your problems._

Ravus was right in a way, and it irked him to no end. Placing his hands firmly on the stone parapets, Prompto pushed himself up, standing on the wall like he had seen Noctis do weeks prior. How the hell the prince had managed to do it so casually still escaped him.

_What’s it called when people have the urge to jump off of high things? Whatever it is, I don’t have it._

With no safety net beneath him or railing to hold onto, Prompto felt a keen sense of self-preservation seize him, and with it, relief.

 _I want to live_.

He’d had his fair share of doubts, but now he was sure—even if he wasn’t sure of anything else.

It was in the middle of this life-altering realization that Prompto’s ears were met with an unexpected sound—a fierce thudding of feet on stone—headed straight for him, and he had an image flash through his mind before he could turn around of Ravus pushing him off the wall to finish what he started in the chapel.

Prompto turned a little too fast in his alarm, one foot slipping from solid ground into nothingness, except this time there was someone behind him to grab him. His would-be assailant held him roughly by the wrist, yanking Prompto back to safety, and the force of it sent the two of them tumbling on top of each other.

“Shit!” Prompto yelped as he hit the ground, kneecaps taking the brunt of the force. Wincing, he squinted through his pain to see a head of black hair beside him— _definitely not Ravus._

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” they growled, pressing up onto hands and knees before gripping Prompto’s tie like he was a dog that might bolt.

_Storm cloud eyes._

He felt everything at once—the agony, the relief, the joy, the sorrow—he was staring straight at Noctis Lucis Caelum.

“What the— _nothing_!” Prompto snapped indignantly. He tried to push Noctis away, but the prince smacked his hands aside, pulling the blond in closer.

Noctis’s knuckles turned white from how hard they were clenched around the delicate silk. “Were you about to jump? What the _fuck_ , Prompto!”

Behind the anger in Noctis’s eyes was a wild terror, and it made Prompto realize how the situation must have looked from the prince’s perspective.

_Oh—crap._

It was time to switch into damage control mode. “What?! No! Of course not! I was just—”

“Ravus, he—he said you were going to jump, I saw him on the stairs,” Noctis said in a rush, his grip finally weakening. He slumped forward, forehead digging into the nook of Prompto’s shoulder, as if all the energy had been sucked from him.

“You were worried about me?” Prompto hadn’t meant to speak the question aloud, but as surprised as he was, he couldn’t help himself.

“What type of question is that? Of _course,_ I was worried about you!” Sliding down to the ground, Noctis rolled onto his back, throwing one arm across his face. “Just the thought of losing you…it was too much. I can’t go through that again. I can’t.”

The only sound was of the warm spring breeze as it rustled through the trees. Without Noctis’s eyes on him, Prompto was able to watch the prince, and for once, he didn’t bother to hide his awe.

_He still cares about me._

After swallowing hard, Prompto cleared his throat, set on making things right. “Life sucks, but not _that_ much. Did you really think I would?” He decided to join Noctis on his back, moving in close so that they were shoulder to shoulder, and he stared up at the fluffy clouds overhead as they floated past, leaves on a slow-moving stream.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” The prince’s arm fell away, and he turned his head, Prompto reflected in his pale eyes. “When I saw you, I—I didn’t know what to think. It scared me.” His voice had gone soft, tone raw, and Prompto’s heart beat a little faster.

The blond had turned on his side so that they were now face-to-face. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” They held eye contact, and Prompto’s spirits lifted when he saw the corners of Noctis’s mouth curl up into a smile.

“Hmph…apology accepted.”

“…I heard the engagement is off.” It might have not been the most graceful delivery, but Prompto didn’t think he’d ever find the right time if he waited.

Noctis didn’t seem to be too upset about the change in topic though. He sat up gingerly, looping his arms around his knees and pulling them into his chest. “Yeah, it is.”

Prompto opted to stay on his side, fingers twitching as they itched for an outlet for his anxiety. “So, um…do you still like me?”

_When you find your opening, you have to shoot your shot._

The prince’s laugh was abrupt, and he kicked Prompto lightly in his shin. “Yeah, you dummy, I still like you. You think I would have run up _four_ flights of steps if I didn’t?”

There was a flutter in Prompto’s stomach that made him grin like an idiot. “I guess not, considering you do everything you can to get out of Tactics and Arms.”

Noctis gasped, feigning shock, and Prompto eased himself up, adopting the same position as the prince.

“Listen, I have a _very_ serious allergy to physical activity. Look, I’m breaking out in hives just thinking about it.” Noctis jokingly pointed to his face, cheeks a rosy pink. It could have been from the exertion or from being with Prompto—he figured it was probably a combination of both. “I could have _died_ coming up here after you,” he declared.

It was past time for subtleties, and Prompto wriggled his way against Noctis’s side, eliminating the space between him before laying his head on the prince’s shoulder.

“Guess I owe you one, huh?”

“Yep. You owe me big time.” Noctis’s mouth brushed Prompto’s cheek hopefully, and the blond’s own moved to meet it.

The kiss was sweeter than spring rain and as powerful as a summer storm. It was everything Prompto wanted and needed, and more that he had hoped for, and although the idea of being with Noctis still terrified him, he realized in that moment he couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

He had found where he belonged—it was right here, at Noctis’s side. This time, he planned to stay there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The major difference here is that, in the original, Prompto decides to commit suicide by jumping off the roof of academy after performing at the spring show, and Noctis has to warp to save him again. With the tone changing significantly in this version, it didn't make sense for that to happen, but I still wanted a rooftop scene as the 'climax' between Noctis and Prompto, a call back to where it all started between them. I think this works a lot more naturally!


	20. Darling, Darling, Stand by Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Prompto make a joint decision concerning their futures.

“What the…?” Noctis was turning in a tight circle, righteous anger drawing his words tighter than a bowstring.

Prompto hadn’t given much thought to bringing Noctis back to their (formally) shared dorm room until it was too late, and now the prince was inspecting the vandalism inside it like someone had died, morbidly curious, but mostly horrified, and he whirled on Prompto as if he were about to throw a punch.

“Who did this?” he demanded. If he were a dog, his hackles would have been raised.

Prompto, not accustomed to Noctis showing raw emotion in front of him, balked.

“Um, well, I don’t know, actually, so...uh.”

Noctis’s shoulders bunched, lips twisting into a scowl. “What the fuck. What the absolute _fuck_ ,” he muttered, mostly to himself, and he scanned the room with his arms crossed, making Prompto feel the need to soothe him.

“Dude, it’s cool. I’m fine,” Prompto promised. He nudged the prince, grinning for good measure, but his maybe-boyfriend buckled down, not budging.

Noctis’s words were spoken low and with conviction. “This is definitely _not_ cool. Whoever did this—they deserve to pay. What if you had been here when they pulled this shit, huh?” 

“They probably wouldn’t have done anything…” Noctis’s glare stopped him from continuing.

Still unfamiliar with people taking his side, Prompto rubbed the back of his neck, looking around the room with a new perspective.

 _Yeah, it_ is _pretty awful, isn’t it?_

Sticking to a diplomatic approach, Prompto slung an arm across Noctis’s shoulders placatingly. “Okay, so maybe it’s _not_ cool, but there’s nothing we can do now. So—can we drop it?” He smiled when Noctis directed his grumpy expression towards him. “Please?”

“…fine,” he reluctantly conceded. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Relieved, Prompto planted a quick kiss on the prince’s cheek. “Noted.”

When he started to collect his belongings, pulling out clothes from his dresser and closet, Noctis wordlessly lent a hand, and they worked in silence until everything of value was piled on the lower bunk of the bed. All of Prompto’s worldly belongings fit on one twin mattress.

They stared at it, as if paying their respects.

“I’m sorry,” Noctis said finally.

At a loss, Prompto put his hands on his hips. “Sorry for what?”

The prince shrugged, staring at one of the words on the wall with quiet animosity.

“This—all of this.” He waved at the graffiti and the damages that were scattered throughout the room like corpses on a battlefield. “I had no idea. If I had known, I…” It was clear that he was struggling to find the words, and Prompto let him have his moment. He often forgot that his life was not the norm for everyone else, but realized then that it must have been completely foreign to the Prince of Lucis.

“I won’t let it happen again,” Noctis vowed. The determination in his tone convinced Prompto that it was the truth, and he leaned into the prince, closing his eyes.

“…thanks.”

It wasn’t the most romantic of settings, _that_ was for sure, but Prompto had the fleeting thought that so long as he had Noctis, there was nothing he couldn’t handle.

 _I can do this_. _I’m not alone anymore._

For the first time in his life, he wholeheartedly believed it.

* * *

As soon as Prompto stepped into the academy the next morning, fresh butterflies tore free of their cocoons and took up residence in his stomach. The fluttery feeling only fueled the paranoia that everyone he passed was whispering about him, but he kept his head down, making a beeline for the auditorium. By the time he made it there and slipped into the back hallway behind it, he was sweating through his black dress shirt and blazer.

He took a second to glance down at the text message from earlier that morning that he still had pulled up on his phone screen.

Noct  
  
**Today** 8:15 AM  
Don’t stress. I’ll be in the front row as soon as the concert starts. You got this.  
  


It was easier said than done, but Prompto was going to give it his all and hope for the best.

They had stayed up late the night before, lounging in Noctis’s room at the Citadel (which was even fancier than Prompto had imagined), and making up for lost time. Eventually, they had fallen asleep talking, and Prompto had snuck back to his room in the middle of the night to make sure no one suspected anything.

Cor Leonis, for one, didn’t seem surprised to see Noctis and Prompto return together that night, and was vocal in his approval.

"The Citadel is the safest option for the both of you right now. Trust me," he had said.

But as nice as it was to hide away in a high tower—literally—Prompto wasn’t out of the woods yet.

The spring concert was always a well-supported event, and this year was no different. Students and their family members filled every seat of the large auditorium, having traveled from all across Lucis to attend. Royalty and politicians were also invited, the first several rows reserved with laminated name cards affixed to the seats.

As Prompto stepped backstage, he peeked around the curtain and located the seat that read “Noctis Lucis Caelum” in scrawling ink. It was front and center, right beside one that read “His Majesty, Regis Lucis Caelum”.

He wondered if King Regis would show up. If Prompto had thought of it sooner, he could have asked Cor when he had picked him up from the Citadel that morning, but it was too late now.

_Oh well. Guess it will be a surprise._

He just hoped it would be a pleasant one.

The lights had already been dimmed as the show was meant to start within the next ten minutes. He would have arrived thirty minutes early like Yuna had asked, but had spent a good fifteen of them pacing in the academy driveway after Marshal Leonis had driven away, trying to build up the courage to go inside.

The only thing that kept him from calling the Marshal to come back and get him was the promise Prompto had made to Yuna.

He couldn’t abandon her; he always kept his promises.

Even so, Prompto’s anxiety was climbing to new heights, a noose around his neck that squeezed tighter with every passing minute, and he stood clutching his guitar case’s handle like a life raft while he waited for Yuna to meet him in the stage lounge. Students zipped to-and-fro around him, making last minute preparations. Thankfully, they were too busy to pay him any attention, which was what Prompto preferred. He was nervous enough without adding any unwanted interactions into the mix.

“Prompto!” an overjoyed voice eventually exclaimed.

Turning to greet his partner, Prompto was stunned to find Yuna wearing a black strapless dress with an empire waist, the light, gauzy fabric brushing just above her knees as she walked. The thick band beneath her chest was decorated with diamonds, and they caught the light every time she moved.

 _Wow_.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, leaning in to embrace him. He returned her hug fully this time, and was internally grateful for her gentle warmth.

In time, he hoped to be able to trust people again, and Yuna seemed to be a good person to start with.

“You look wonderful,” Prompto commented, doing his best to appear relaxed despite the nerves that had him practically bouncing in place.

 _You got this,_ he reminded himself, using Noctis's words. After all the hardship he had been through, one little performance hardly seemed like something worth stressing over, and yet…

“We’re second in the lineup,” Yuna explained. “Want to run through it really quick?”

He’d already tuned the instrument beforehand, so he began to play as soon as soon as his guitar was positioned in his lap, and Yuna added her voice effortlessly, although quieter than usual out of respect for others who were warming up.

Prompto focused on the song to the best of his ability, knowing that anything else would be a distraction. They managed to successfully get through it twice before they heard a chorus of applause beyond the wall, a sign that they would be announced shortly.

“Thank you again for agreeing to do this,” Yuna gushed as she stood. Prompto couldn’t speak though, sweat already beading on his forehead in anticipation.

 _Don’t thank me yet_.

Taking the stage didn’t feel real. Yes, he heard the announcer say their names loudly and clearly— _Please welcome_ , _Yuna and Prompto—_ and he was keenly aware of when the room quieted as they stepped beneath the too-hot spotlights, but as for everything else, it was like a dream, limbs moving as if through quicksand, tongue heavy and mind foggy.

Amid the dimmed lights Prompto made out the whites of the audience members eyes, all seemingly trained on him, and stage fright paralyzed him, keeping him from going any further.

He wanted to scream—tell them to look at Yuna, not him. She was the only person they should care about. But then his eyes fell on Noctis’s seat, and he saw that the prince was there, looking just as powerful and confidently aloof as the first day they had met.

 _Lend me your strength_ , Prompto prayed, but it wasn’t to any god.

Call it fate, or just dumb luck, but Noctis smiled then, holding Prompto’s gaze, and the stage fright faded away.

Two spotlights separated Prompto and Luna, but they were only a few feet apart. The darkness was comforting in its own way, preventing Prompto from seeing any of the people past the first two rows. In the silence he could hear his own heart beating, louder than a bass drum.

_Focus, Prompto, deep breaths._

Yuna was standing in front of her microphone, patiently waiting for her partner to begin the intro. Prompto’s guitar was poised and ready, and the blond positioned himself so that he was close to his microphone, mouth hovering close enough to kiss it if he wanted.

The longer they waited, the worse Prompto’s anxiety became, so he cleared his throat and nodded in Yuna’s direction to signal that he was ready, even though he felt anything but.

_Time to take a leap of faith._

Attempting to calm his racing heart, Prompto closed his eyes and pictured them stuck in Yuna’s tiny cubicle in Mrs. Leonhart’s room, laughing as they huddled together.

He thought of Noctis and what he had said on the roof— _just the thought of losing you…it was too much. I can’t go through that again_ —and with an uneven inhale, began to play.

His fingers drew on his muscle memory, confidently picking and strumming the melody that he had memorized. Several stanzas later, Yuna raised her voice, and the two sounds meshed in perfect harmony, just like Prompto knew they would.

“Hands, put your empty hands in mine, and scars, show me all the scars you hide,

And hey, if your wings are broken, please take mine so yours can open too—"

When it was Prompto’s turn to contribute, he sang with reckless abandon, all fear of judgement cast aside now that he was playing.

The majority of the judgement he had inflicted on himself, the belief that he wasn’t good enough, but he was through with that. Though the pain still lingered beneath the surface, he was now free from the worst of it. 

It was time for a new start.

_“Cause I’m gonna stand by you—”_

“Oh tears, make kaleidoscopes in your eyes,

And hurt, I know you’re hurting, but so am I—"

“And love, if your wings are broken,

Borrow mine so yours can open too…”

_“’Cause I’m gonna stand by you—”_

“Even if we're breaking down, we can find a way to break through—"

“Oooh,” Prompto chimed, guitar picking up.

_“Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through hell with you—"_

_“Love, you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna stand by you.”_

As they continued through the song, Prompto lost sight of what was Yuna’s and what was his. Their voices layered on top of each other’s, distinct, yet perfectly in sync. Everything was poured into the words they sang, a sacrifice of emotions upon an invisible altar.

The catharsis he had been chasing was now made real with each ringing chord played and lyric sung.

“Yeah, you're all I never knew I needed—”

“And the heart, sometimes it's unclear why it's beating—”

_“And love, if your wings are broken,  
We can brave through those emotions too—  
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you.”_

  
“Oh, truth, I guess truth is what you believe in—”  
  


“And faith, I think faith is having a reason…No, no, no, love, if your wings are broken—"  
  


“Borrow mine so yours can open too—”  
  


_'“Cause I'm gonna stand by you.”_

The song was nearing its close when Prompto lifted his head, and he dared to look over at Yuna. Her face was tilted up, eyes closed as she cradled the microphone in both hands, and the spotlight’s glow made her resemble exactly what he envisioned an angel might look like.

His final chords came sooner than he thought they would, rippling through the air until they eased into nothingness along with Yuna’s last words, and he bowed his head once more, the moment sacred.

As the song ended, the stillness that came after was overwhelmingly satisfying, and Prompto drowned in a sense of accomplishment despite the lack of applause.

Then, there came a steady, singular clapping of hands, and Prompto’s eyes were automatically drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

Noctis was grinning up at him from where he stood in the first row, apparently not caring how it looked to anyone else, but then, another round of hands joined him, and another, until there was a chain reaction, a deafening roar soon filling the room.

Prompto stared out into the faceless crowd, dumbfounded by the warm reception. The euphoria he felt in that moment almost made everything he had been through at the academy worth it—almost.

Yuna immediately came to his side, laughing as she linked their arms and bowed, causing Prompto to be forced into the same position. The cheers got even louder after that, every person in the auditorium now on their feet. The lights went up briefly to allow time to rearrange the stage for the next performers, and Prompto lingered to catch Noctis’s eye.

The strength of the prince’s gaze took Prompto’s breath away so that he barely registered that the king was beside him. With a single look, Noctis communicated what Prompto hoped he could one day say aloud.

_I love you._

_That_ made everything he had been through worth it.

Suddenly, King Regis placed his hand on Noctis’s arm and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. The prince’s smile faltered, and he turned abruptly, squeezing past others in the row to excuse himself. Stomach lurching worriedly, Prompto traced Noctis’s outline as he walked away, his father close on his heels.

_Does the king know about us? Is that why…?_

He didn’t have much time to consider it though, for Yuna was pulling Prompto off the stage to allow the next act to set up, and they were immediately swarmed by a group of students as they stepped backstage, several excited voices all talking at them at once.

“Wow, that was amazing!”

“You two killed it!”

“I had no idea you could sing like that, Argentum!”

Prompto had no interest in sticking around to chat though. He was more concerned with where Noctis had run off to, and what the king had said to get him to leave so quickly, so he smiled politely and let Yuna deal with the group as he escaped into the hall.

His head was on a swivel, adrenaline surging through his veins as he jogged through the empty corridor in search of Noctis.

 _They couldn’t have gone far_.

Instinct took him towards the entrance of the academy. It made sense that they would be leaving after his performance, as it was the only reason Noctis had come in the first place, and Prompto found himself shoving the front doors of the school open with such force that they slammed loudly.

Standing in front of Leviathan’s pool in the academy driveway where a car was idling, was Noctis and his father, speaking in hushed tones. The prince’s body was in fight-or-flight mode, angled and combative, and Prompto threw the pieces of the puzzle together without context.

He ran out and into the light, belatedly acknowledging as the royals looked to him that he had no plan whatsoever.

_But I have to try._

“Your Majesty, please—I’m sorry, but, your son—he’s—he’s my best friend, and—and—I wouldn’t be here without him. Please don’t be angry at him.” It was sloppy, but it was honest, and he hoped it would be enough to make the king listen.

Noctis gave his father a look that spoke for itself. _See? I told you so._

“Prompto, you seem to be a perfectly nice boy, but—” King Regis started to say, but Noctis cut in, too impatient to wait to make his point.

“You told me I need to act more like the future king, but you won’t even trust me to make my own decisions. I choose Prompto— _that’s_ my decision.”

Uneasy, Prompto looked to the king, trying to gauge his reaction to Noctis’s words, but unlike the two boys, the ruler had plenty of experience in maintaining a neutral expression for diplomacy’s sake. He didn’t answer right away, studying Noctis first, then Prompto.

“Are you planning on staying in the Marshal’s custody for the time being, Prompto?” King Regis wondered, tone neither harsh nor inviting.

The sun was hitting the water of the fountain just right, making it glitter like a pool of stars, and birds chirped in the trees nearby, relaying their morning songs enthusiastically. If anyone had been watching, it would have seemed like a picturesque scene, but for Prompto it was as if he was standing in front of a firing squad.

One wrong move, and— _bang!_ This was his only chance to convince Noctis’s father that he wasn’t just a pawn in his Verstael’s plan, and he couldn’t afford to mess it up.

“If you will let me, Your Majesty, I would be forever grateful. I can…I can work—I won’t make you regret it. I know it would be a burden, but I promise I’m good at staying out of the way. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.” He took a few hesitant steps forward, daring to join them, and he and Noctis both held their breaths, watching the wrinkles of the king’s face shift as he considered. “My entire life, I believed I was worthless. My father…well, he didn’t exactly tell me otherwise. It wasn’t until I met Noctis that those beliefs changed. There were a lot of times we could have—maybe even _should_ have—given up on each other, but we didn’t. I get it. It’s not what anyone expected, but…I prayed for a miracle. For someone to save me. And—” Prompto exhaled forcefully. “—what I got was your son. I can’t help but feel like we were brought together for a reason, and even if the reason isn’t clear, I want a chance to figure it out—together.”

It was the most words Prompto had spoken in front of an adult since he had to give a presentation in his World History class, and a million times more intimidating, the grading heavier than just a pass or fail, but King Regis seemed to weigh everything carefully, not prone to drawing hasty conclusions.

“My son insists that you’re nothing like your father,” the man finally commented. To Prompto, King Regis’s smile was a removal of the invisible noose around his neck. Suddenly, he could breathe again. 

“I…can’t promise I’m _nothing_ like him, sir, but I can promise I don’t want to be like him,” Prompto answered carefully. “And that…I want to support Noctis in any way I can. Whether it’s as a friend or as something—” An awkward pause. “—more.”

That scored a chuckle from the monarch, and he clapped Prompto on the back with a familiarity the student didn’t think he deserved, but graciously accepted.

“My wayward son will need all the help he can get, especially now. He is lucky to have someone in his life who cares for him as much as you seem to,” Noctis’s father agreed, side-eying Noctis.

Prompto could only assume he was implying ‘ _now that you two are together,’_ and he hated the way his face turned red in response.

_Some things never change, I guess._

“I’ll do my best, sir.” It felt appropriate to bow, so Prompto did then, and by the time he straightened, everyone was smiling, himself included.

Part of his brain thought, _this is too easy, you can’t trust it_ , but he pushed the doubts away, just this once.

A new day meant a new mindset, and Prompto was well on his way to accepting that sometimes good things happen for no reason other than being in the right place at the right time.

* * *

Making the transition to living at the Citadel full time wasn’t easy, but fortunately, Prompto had a team of people to support him. For someone who was used to being alone most of the time, it was overwhelming at first. Sometimes, he didn’t want help, even from Noctis, but he was learning to accept it more and more.

‘Take it one day at a time,’ was his new motto, and so far it was working.

King Regis had two stipulations for Prompto taking up residence in the capital building.

The first was that he received counseling and therapy on a weekly basis. At first, Prompto was under the impression that he didn’t need to speak to a ‘shrink’ about his problems, but it only took a couple sessions for him to realize that he was very, very wrong about that. Verstael’s abuse ran deeper than he had realized, but with the help of psychiatrist Dr. Estheim, he was learning that everyone had their own daemons to defeat—that it was just a part of being human.

The second stipulation was that if he was going to insist on pursuing a romantic relationship with Noctis, Prompto needed to receive formal defense training from the Crownsguard and allow them to accompany the two on their dates. No secret missions that could put them in unnecessary danger, and no running off—period. Although a little weird at first, they soon became accustomed to having bodyguards lurking in the shadows and quickly forgot they were even there.

Media speculation regarding Verstael and Headmaster Izunia eventually died down, although Prompto and Noctis found cameras being shoved in their faces if they ventured outside of the Citadel walls, wanting to know who the prince’s ‘mysterious new friend’ was and where he came from. Marshal Leonis did everything he could to discourage the more aggressive journalists, and eventually the vultures learned to keep their distance, but Noctis became especially vigilant for paparazzi, warping them safely out of reach when necessary.

They ended up on the roof of a restaurant one time because of it, and they had snickered behind their hands as they watched the clueless photographers wander in circles, scratching their heads in confusion.

The Marshal told Prompto that they were still actively searching for Verstael and Ardyn, but that so long as they were hiding outside of Lucian borders, their hands were effectively tied. In the meantime, Prompto did his best to recall from memory anything of value that he could tell him about Verstael’s research, although it wasn’t much.

“Don’t worry, kid. You’re safe here,” the Crownsguard commander had said.

The nights grew longer and the days hotter as spring came to an end. Summer break arrived (thank the gods), and Prompto passed the time reading, taking photos, and practicing guitar when he wasn’t in therapy or in private lessons given by one of the royal tutors assigned to him. ( _Dude, see? It blows,_ Noctis complained, and Prompto was inclined to agree.)

Occasionally, Yuna came to visit, and they would sit in Prompto’s room and talk, but mainly they sang while Prompto played guitar. She would bring new sheet music for him to learn, and they would perform it for his friends—Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis.

In Prompto’s mind, the best part about living in the Citadel was seeing his friends on a regular basis. Ignis insisted on bringing food had cooked for him to try several points throughout the week, then would tell Prompto something interesting he had learned or seen while they ate together. Gladio dragged him out to train whenever he had a spare moment, telling the blond that he couldn’t let his skills get rusty just because he was living the ‘royal life’ now. Prompto dreaded hand-to-hand grappling, but learned that he enjoyed the shooting range, nailing every target on his first visit—and again on the second.

“Huh, I thought it was just a fluke, but you’re actually good!” Gladio laughed after the third outing bore the same results.

“Hey, what do you mean ‘actually’ good?” Prompto demanded.

Noctis, of course, texted Prompto nonstop, even when they weren’t together. Their tutors weren’t fans, and after a sharp rap on the knuckles with a ruler, Prompto got good at hiding his phone under his desk and texting without looking.

Best of all, every morning when Prompto woke up he had something to wake up to.

Noct  
  
**Today** 9:08 AM  
Morning chocobutt  
lol morning Your Highness  
Wanna grab lunch after our lame tutoring sessions?  
Sure, but you're buying!  
It's a date then ;)  
Bet!

The prince was the first thing Prompto thought of when he woke up, and the last thing he thought of when he went to sleep. It was nice—being in love, and with Noctis, it never felt like work.

One day, Prompto knew he would have to tell Noctis about the secret he was still harboring; that he had seen clones of himself in Verstael’s research facility, but for now he wanted to cling to the radical good that had come unexpectedly into his life—no matter the cost.

* * *

The sun’s rays were unforgiving as they beat down on the paved stones of the path through the Citadel’s inner garden, but the heat of the summer day didn’t touch Prompto in quite the same way. He was sitting in the shade from a nearby cherry blossom tree in the height of its bloom, bare feet dipped in the shallow pool of the long fountain that stretched before him. There was a statue of some long-dead king in the center of it, sword raised as if leading a charge into battle, and it was at direct odds with the tranquility he felt around him.

Perched in his lap was a new guitar, an ‘early birthday present’ from Noctis, although October was still a couple months away.

When Prompto had protested, saying it was too nice for him to accept, the prince had answered with his typical nonchalance. _You deserve it. Consider it an anniversary gift then if it makes you feel better,_ he had said, shrugging.

_Three months together—man, how time flies. (Okay, so three months and six days, but who’s counting?)_

Prompto was admiring the instrument’s shiny black face and its white-marbled pick guard, plucking at the virgin strings affectionately. Its sound was stronger than he was used to, vibrant in the way of things untarnished by time and use, but that was something that he planned to soon change.

He was strumming a piece that he had been practicing with Yuna, and he sang to himself, just loud enough to be heard over the notes.

“When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we’ll see—no, I won’t be afraid, no, I won’t be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me—so darling, darling, stand by me, oh stand by me, oh stand—stand by me…”

As a shadow suddenly fell across him, Prompto stopped, automatically ready with an apology although he had done nothing wrong, but as soon as Noctis stepped into view from behind him, the ‘sorry’ died on his lips.

“Sounds good,” Noctis said in way of greeting, kicking off his shoes as he joined Prompto in sitting on the edge of the fountain.

“Thanks. It’s coming together slowly, but surely.”

He watched Noctis dip his pale feet into the crystal-clear water, smiling.

“You thinking of performing again with Yuna in the fall show?” the prince went on to ask. Prompto’s smile widened when his boyfriend let their knees touch and kicked his feet to send waves of droplets flying. In the suffocating temperature, the spray of cold liquid felt good.

“Maybe, I’m not sure,” Prompto admitted honestly. It had taken him a while to even agree to going back to the academy. Even though King Regis had waived his tuition fees, there were still all the negative memories and feelings attached to the school that he had to sort through. Dr. Estheim was helping with that, but it was an ongoing process and not an overnight fix.

The one saving grace, and ultimately the deciding factor, was that Noctis would be going back with him.

Prompto set his guitar aside, eyes following a hummingbird as it flitted past. “I wish Gladio and Ignis hadn't graduated already.”

There was a snort from the prince. “Don’t worry, they’ll be around. I can’t escape them even when I want to.”

Grinning, Prompto took the opportunity to elbow Noctis lightly in the ribs. “Aw, c’mon man, don’t be like that. They’re fun!”

“You only say that because you haven’t been around them your whole life. Give it another year,” Noctis groaned, but he seemed please.

 _Give it a year_.

Looking forward to next year was a new feeling for Prompto, and the grin slid from his face as a wave of emotion hit him unexpectedly.

“What’s wrong?” Noctis was frowning, concerned, but the blond just shook his head.

“Nothing,” he insisted.

Apparently, it was the wrong answer, because it earned Prompto a shove in the back. Before he had a chance to yell, he found himself falling into the pool with a splash, and he hacked and coughed to clear water from his throat, struggling to gain his footing.

Amidst Noctis’s laughter, he spat, “What the hell—!?” And before Prompto could think better of it, he gripped his boyfriend by the leg and pulled with all of his might, forcing his dark head under the water.

The prince came up gasping as soon as Prompto let go. “Oh, it’s on!” he declared.

The battle was vicious, if not short lived. They kicked up water in waves until there was nothing dry left on either of them, dunking each other several times. Prompto managed to push Noctis down after a few minutes of back and forth, only to have the prince warp across the distance he had created and tackle him.

They were chest-deep when they finally called a truce, both cackling and wheezing.

“Okay, okay, I give up!” Prompto giggled, and Noctis squeezed an arm around the blond’s neck playfully.

“Ha! That’s what I thought!” His dark hair was plastered to his face, white t-shirt now see-through, and Prompto couldn’t resist staring. “It’s our last week before school starts back up, so, after we dry off, what do you want to do?” he asked once he caught his breath, wiping water out of his eyes only to have more drip into them.

Leaning back on his hands with a lazy smile, Prompto didn’t hesitate in giving his answer.

“I’m down for anything, so long as it’s with you.”

Wide eyes matching the summer sky above fell on Prompto’s face, and in them held a future beyond his wildest dreams.

A future within his grasp.

Extending one hand, the prince took Prompto’s in his, and they helped each other up, stepping gingerly over the fountain’s low wall together, but even after they cleared it, Noctis didn’t loosen his grip—and neither did Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading to the end. This fic is near and dear to my heart as it is a rewrite of one of the first FFXV stories I ever wrote. 
> 
> There will be another chapter consisting of detailed author's notes and my playlist for this fic following this one, so please look forward to that. 
> 
> As always, feel free to yell at me on Tumblr (hard-noct-life) or Twitter (@HardNoctLife).


	21. Author's Note & Playlist

**Author's** **Notes**

  * As I mentioned at the beginning, this is a rewrite of one of the first fics I ever did for FFXV, "The Insomnian Academy for the Elite." The idea to revamp it came from a prompt in one of my discord groups that encouraged us to pick an older piece of work and edit it. Reading through _Insomnian Academy_ , I still loved the idea behind the story and most of the plot, but realized that it needed a LOT of work. I wrote the series (there were two other fics that came after it) in Prompto's POV, and first person is somewhat jarring in fanfiction, so that was the first thing I decided to fix. Then, it was the characterization of key players, such as Noctis and Gladio to make them more like their Brotherhood and in-game selves. As I chipped away at each chapter, more things started to change, until I found myself writing an entirely new story. 


  * For the sake of simplicity, I made all the characters fall into the high school age range (even though Luna and Ravus are supposed to be older than the bros and there is a one-year age difference between Gladio and Ignis.)


  * Yuna was a temporary "love interest" and took on a major role in the original, but in my opinion it was too much of a distraction from the Promptis relationship I was trying to achieve. I still liked the idea of someone competing for Prompto's affections though, so Gladio took up that mantle. I think it worked a lot more naturally and created more drama. 


  * Throughout the story, Ravus was blackmailing Prompto with pictures of him and Noctis. At one point, there was a photography show, and Prompto walked into the auditorium only to find that the photo of him kissing Noctis at the party was plastered everywhere. While horrifying, it didn't make that much sense to me looking back on it, so that was a major cut I made. 


  * There was way more angst in the first edit (if you can believe that), with Prompto making a suicide attempt and deciding not to return to the academy. Also, although he and Noctis are in a better place, they don't date right away, which sets up for the second fic in the series, but I wanted this fic to have a more positive feel (and a happy ending). In all honesty, I wrote _Insomnian Academy_ in the middle of a major depressive episode, which probably had a lot to do with it, but I think optimism is an important part of Prompto's character, and I really wanted to show that, despite everything that had happened to him, he still found hope in a dark place and was able to overcome all the hurdles so he and Noctis could be together.


  * Someone asked if I will rewrite the sequels to _Insomnian Academy_ ("Insomnia High School", and "Altissian Academy of the Arts"), and my answer to that is...maybe. At this point, they would be completely different stories, although I definitely have another fic in mind to follow this one up. Unfortunately, I am also in the middle of two Big Bangs and several zines right now, a couple of which I'm also moderating, so it will have to be pushed off for a bit.


  * If you liked this fic, look forward to my Promptis Big Bang fic, which will be released later this year! In the meantime, I hope you check out some of my other work. I appreciate every kudos and comment. Truly, it only adds fuel to my fire. 


  * My tumblr post about my feelings while writing this fic [HERE ](https://hard-noct-life.tumblr.com/post/612075693663256576/that-finished-fic-feeling-look-for-the-final)


  * I sincerely thought that this edit would be quick and easy. I only really intended to change from first to third person POV and tighten up my characterization, maybe flesh out some details...I really should have known better. It was as I was nearing the 'end' of the original that I discovered it was going to be even longer than I anticipated.


  * My original fic was 67.5k words and 16 chapters. The rewrite ended up 80k+ words and 20 chapters, but all in all, it only took me two months to write. (It helps already having most of the plot in place). 


  * The hardest part for me to write was the interplay between Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto, because love triangles can be tricky, and I still wanted everyone to be friends afterwards. Enter Gladnis and mutual unrequited pining! 


  * My Spotify playlist for this fic can be found [HERE](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2rKy6i5w6UVtdpF2v2kBq1?si=aapYQ7nkQIeLYcyp0EOVqQ)


  * If you've read any of my other fics, you probably know that music is a huge inspiration for me. I make playlists for almost every major fic I write. The title for the rewrite comes from "Stand by You," a Rachel Platten song, which is the same song Prompto and Yuna sing in the spring show. I liked it because it has similar energy to "Stand by Me," which Prompto also gives a nod to in the final chapter. 


  * Back when it was still _Insomnian Academy,_ I always imagined young Prompto's voice to be similar to Alex Goot's, so when I heard the duet version he did of "Stand by You," I immediately got the scene in my head of him singing it on stage. Also, Prompto with a guitar? Yes please.



**Chapter 1: A Royal Pain**

**“Zero” by Imagine Dragons**

_hello, hello / let me tell you what it’s like to be a zero, zero / let me show you what it’s like to always feel, feel / like I’m empty and there’s nothing really real, real / I’m looking for a way out_

      * This has always been THE high school Prompto song for me. It still manages to be incredibly catchy and upbeat, but is all about that feeling of not being good enough, which is something he struggles with throughout most of his young life. 



**Chapter 2: Good Intentions **

**“Wanted” by One Republic**

_And I just want to be wanted / I could use a little love sometimes / I just need to be needed / like to know I’m crossin’ someone’s mind / she said I’m gonna let you in on a little tiny secret / we all want to be wanted_

      * With Noctis & Co. coming into the picture, Prompto's desire to be wanted, something he has been suppressing for years, comes to the surface. Unfortunately, he's used to being wanted for all the wrong reasons, and typically assumes anyone who shows him kindness is just using him for their own personal gain (something he learned from Verstael). 



**Chapter 3: Great Expectations**

**“Timebomb” by Walk the Moon**

_Every night, every day / ten times outta nine, I’m a hand grenade / I don’t wanna push you away, but I’m warning you, babe / Instead of green light, no serenade / it’s a red flag before the mayday / check all of my signs, keep away, I’m warning you, babe / afraid to light the fuse again; start a fire, lose a friend / but when your heart opens it’s like I’m ready to fall again_

      * This is my other "Prompto song." He's a walking disaster, not poised and cool like Noctis & Co, and he wears his feelings on his sleeve most of the time. Seeing him and Noctis together at first is like watching the fuse burn on a bomb. There's a lot of mixed signals starting out, and you know that there's going to be a big buildup to the explosion. 



**Chapter 4: Making Friends**

**“Cool Kids” cover by Echosmith**

_he says I’m talking with a big smile, but they haven’t got a clue / yeah, they’re living the good life / can’t see what he is going through / they’re driving fast cars, but they don’t know where they’re going / in the fast lane, living life without knowing / and he says / I wish that I could be like the cool kids / cause all the cool kids, they seem to fit in_

      * This song really speaks for itself. Noctis & Co. are definitely the "cool kids" at school, and Prompto is having trouble wrapping his mind around why they would pay him any attention. (Of course, he has no idea that they were sent to spy on him at this point). He genuinely envies their ability to be so carefree.



**“Introducing Me” by Nick Jonas**

_If you wanna know / here it goes / gonna tell you this / the part of me that shows if you’re close / gonna let you see everything / but remember that you asked for it / I’ll do my best to impress / but it’s easier to let you take a guess at the rest_

      * This is just something cute and silly that I imagine Prompto singing to himself in his room while practicing his guitar. The energy seemed very "him" and it makes me smile anytime I hear it. 



**Chapter 5: Meeting Halfway**

**“Strange Direction” by Brothers Page**

_Far away, far away from this old world_ _/ I'm so tired of the fleeting feeling / And I'm looking for a love that don't change with the season / 'Cause things are movin' in a strange direction / Yeah, things are movin' in a strange direction / And I'm so hungry hollow searching for that deep connection_

      * It's a weird day for Prompto. His parent meeting goes terribly, he (literally) runs in to the King of Lucis, receives a pep talk from his favorite teacher, and has an epiphany regarding his plan to help Noctis. Things are moving, but not in a way he expected, thus "strange directions." 



**Chapter 6: The ‘Plan’**

**“I’m Just a Kid” by Simple Plan**

_I’m just a kid, and life is a nightmare / I’m just a kid, I know that it’s not fair / nobody cares / ‘cuz I’m alone and the world is / having more fun than me tonight_

      * This oldie-but-goodie by Simple Plan screams teenage angst, the feeling of "I'm just a kid and this is too much for me to handle," except in this case, Prompto really is in way over his head. With the 'plan' now out in the open, he's feeling more alone than ever. 



**“Catch My Breath” cover by Alex Goot**

_I don’t wanna be left behind / Distance was a friend of mine / Catching breath in a web of lies / I’ve spent most of my life / Riding waves, playing acrobat / Shadowboxing the other half / Learning how to react / I’ve spent most of my time / Catching my breath, letting it go / Turning my cheek for the sake of the show / Now that you know, this is my life / I won’t be told what’s supposed to be right_

      * Prompto goes from being a total loner to suddenly having three friends that he hangs out with in all of his spare time. It's a whirlwind of activity as the plan is set in motion to get Noctis taken out of school, and he's struggling to catch his breath with all the changes happening in his life, but he's also developing feelings for our favorite surly prince-he just doesn't know it yet.



**Chapter 7: Intoxicated**

**“Intoxicated” by Ashley DuBose**

_Let's just get drunk and tell each other our secrets /_ _let's just get high and travel to another place in time / when we were young and dumb and we fell in love / let's get intoxicated and fall in love /_ _l_ _et's just get drunk and tell each other our secrets /_ _let's just get high and travel to another place in time / when we were young and dumb and we fell in love_

      * Another song that speaks for itself. Prompto's first time getting drunk is definitely something he won't be forgetting (remembering?) any time soon. 



**“I Don’t Care” by Ed Sheeran, Justin Bieber**

_Don't think I fit in at this party_ _/_ _Everyone's got so much to say (Yeah)_ _/_ _I always feel like I'm nobody, mmm_ _/_ _Who wants to fit in anyway_ _/_ _'Cause I don't care when I'm with my baby, yeah_ _/_ _All the bad things disappear_ _/_ _And you're making me feel like maybe I am somebody_ _/_ _I can deal with the bad nights_ _/_ _When I'm with my baby, yeah_

      * So this song isn't a perfect fit for this situation, but anytime I hear it I immediately think PROMPTIS. Neither Noctis nor Prompto are really 'party people,' but they're able to tolerate social situations for the sake of the other. 



**Chapter 8: The Hangover**

**“Never Been in Love” by Will Jay**

_Never been in love / and it’s all good / not the only one / feeling like they should / maybe one day, someday /but no, I ain’t in a rush / I say whatever, don’t care that I’ve never / no, never been in love_

      * Prompto is hella confused after he shares a drunken kiss with Gladio, and nothing is any clearer when he wakes up the next day. The rudest awakening is discovering his sexuality as a result, but he is also quick to admit to Gladio that he has no experience in this area. We've all been the confused fifteen-year-old in this situation. Things are made worse by Noctis suggesting that they 'fake date.'



**Chapter 9: Damned if You Do(n’t) **

**“Care” by Bry**

_I’ll try to be a little bit stronger_ _/ ‘Cause if I’m waiting any longer / There’ll be no souls beside me / Be mine; I will appreciate your beauty / You’ll doubt you ever ever knew me / Oh I just want to make you happy / If I told you what I’m feeling / Do you promise me you’ll stay?_

      * The first major setback comes when Prompto asks Noctis to arrange a meeting between their fathers, creating a major blow to their developing friendship. As he realizes he is falling in love, Prompto does everything he can to push Noctis away. In his mind, it's for the best, even if it hurts.



**“I'm Still Here” by John Rzeznik**

_And I want a moment to be real / wanna touch things I don’t feel / wanna hold on and feel I belong / and how can the world want me to change / they’re the ones that stay the same / they don’t know me / ‘cause I’m not here_

      * Caught in major emotional turmoil, Prompto doesn't know where to turn to. His father is up to something, but no other adult is of any help, and he feels like he can no longer turn to Noctis & Co. He truly feels invisible. This song, originally in the movie Treasure Planet, is another great one for Prompto. 



**Chapter 10: Controlled Falling**

**“Don’t Let Me Down” cover by Fame on Fire**

_Crashing, hit a wall / Right now I need a miracle / Hurry up now, I need a miracle / Stranded, reaching out / I call your name, but you’re not around / I say your name, but you’re not around / I need you, I need you, I need you right now_

      * This cover is SO epic, and really captures the vibe of the scene in the church perfectly. The lyrics combined with the rock music has that edginess that I was going for. The song is like Prompto's silent prayer that someone save him, and then BOOM, Noctis comes to his rescue!



**“The Last of the Real Ones” by Fall Out Boy**

_I am a collapsing star with tunnel vision, but only for you / but only for you / my head is stripped just like a screw that’s been tightened too many times, when I think of you / when I think of you / I will shield you from the waves if they find you / I will protect you, I will protect you / just tell me, tell me, tell me I / I am the only one / even if it’s not true_

      * The energy in this song, just like the other one I picked for this chapter, felt like a good representation of the relationship between Noctis and Prompto at this point in the story. Even in the middle of a fight, Noctis cannot help but protect Prompto. 



**Chapter 11: Mixed Feelings **

**“Complicated” cover by Olivia O’Brien**

_Why’d you have to go and make things so complicated / I see the way you’re acting like somebody else gets me frustrated / life’s like this / you fall, and you crawl, and you break / and you take, what you get, and you turn it into / honesty and promise me I’m never gonna find you fake it_

      * You think teenage angst and you can't NOT include a song by Avril Lavigne...I like this soft cover of "Complicated" for the aftermath of the church scene. The love triangle between Prompto, Noctis, and Gladio ramps up, and our poor sunshine boy is still VERY confused.



**“Lonely (Acoustic)” by Andreas Moss, Melanie Pfirrman**

_I try to tell myself that you should stay_ _/ You've already ruined me anyway / But I feel nothing in your company / I've spent my life tryin' to break free / I thought that you had damaged me for good / 'Cause you were the only love I understood / I knew that you were a lie that wasn't real / But I wanted to believe in it_

      * Going to stay with Gladio forces Prompto to consider what (and who) he really wants, and although he's still not sure, he knows that he doesn't want to be lonely anymore. 



**Chapter 12: What’s Real**

**“Unlonely” by Jason Mraz**

_It could be love_ _/_ _And we could be homies_ _/_ _And once you get to know me_ _/_ _I could be your one and only_ _/_ _I could make you unlonely_ _/_ _Oh, we could take it slowly_ _/_ _And we could keep it low-key_ _/_ _I could be your one and only_ _/_ _I could make you unlonely_

      * This reflects the playful and upbeat interlude that comes with Gladio and Promptio getting to know each other better. Things with Gladio may be too casual for Prompto's liking, but it turns out to be just what he needs to prepare himself for the real test: "fake dating" Noctis. 



**“Best of You” by Andy Grammar, Elle King**

_What I'm saying is I get you, get you_ _/ Nothing we can't get through / If I see you going down that road / Then I won't let you / I'll catch you no matter how far you fall / / 'Cause the best of me loves the best of you / And all the rest, I can see right through / You trust in me and I'll trust you too / 'Cause the best of me loves the best of you_

      * Prompto returns to school and to Noctis with a new attitude thanks to Gladio. This song can work for Promptio in this situation, but is also a good lead up for the Promptis to come in the following chapters. 



**Chapter 13: (Not) Boyfriends **

**“Who Do You Love” by Marianas Trench**

_God, it’s been so long that I feel like someone else / I’ll miss the way that you saw me or maybe the way I saw myself / but, I came back to you broken and I’ve been away too long / I hear the words I’ve spoken and everything comes out wrong / just can’t get this together, can’t get where I belong / (who do you love?) who do you love?_

      * Prompto finds he's not so good at the whole "pretending" thing, probably because he has very REAL feelings for Noctis, but it's fun to watch him flounder. 



**“About Love” by MARINA**

_Didn't see it coming_ _/ Swept up in your hurricane / Wouldn't give it up for nothing / Now I'm all caught up in the highs and the lows / It's a shock to my system / I don't wanna run away so I stayed / My head gets messy when I try to hide / The things I love about you in my mind / I don't really know a lot about love / A lot about love, a lot about love / But you're in my head, you're in my blood / And it feels so good to hurt so much_

      * I heard this song in the Netflix movie "To All the Boys I've Loved Before" and immediately put it on my playlist for this fic. It perfectly captures how it feels to fall in love for the first time. The "feels so good to hurt so much" line is definitely Prompto in this situation.



**Chapter 14: Winging It**

**“Make Me Like You” cover by Tore Bojsten**

_I was fine before I met you / I was broken but fine / I was lost and uncertain / but my heart was still mine / I was free before I met you / I was broken but free / all alone in the clear view / but now you are all I see //why’d you have to go and make me like you / yeah, this is a feeling I’m not used to_

      * Prompto learns the secret his friends have been hiding, and it damn near breaks his heart. He's regretting ever meeting Noctis & Co., but is especially conflicted considering he is no longer able to deny that he has a crush on the prince. 



**Chapter 15: False Truths**

**“Lion’s Den” by Jhameel**

_Tell me why everytime I look in my eyes_ _/ All of the things I’ve always hated in myself come alive / I’m looking up, heading down, feeling like I’ll die / all of the things I feel inside my beating heart feed my head lies / I don’t wanna lose myself / I don’t even known how to not be my own enemy_

      * The conversation at the Citadel is painful to watch unfold, and Prompto is beginning to give up on the idea of him and Noctis being together. We see him begin to retreat inside himself. Old habits die hard. 



**Chapter 16: One Shot**

**“Head Above Water” cover by Roll for It**

_I’ve gotta keep the calm before the storm / I don’t want less, I don’t want more / must bar the windows and the doors / to keep me safe, to keep me warm / yeah, my life is what I’m fighting for / can’t part the sea, can’t reach the shore / and my voice becomes the driving force / I won’t let this pull be overboard / God, keep my head above water_

      * Things come to a climax with Verstael, and Prompto has to deal with the shocking news that not only is his father a traitor, but that he has been hiding an army of Prompto clones. It's easy for the teenager to fall into a depression, and he seriously begins to doubt that he will escape the research facility. 



**“Demons” cover by Kurt Hugo Schneider**

_Wanna hide the truth / I wanna shelter you / But with the beast inside / There’s nowhere we can hide / No matter what we breed / We still are made of greed / This is my kingdom come / This is my kingdom come / When you feel my heat / Look into my eyes / It’s where my demons hide_

      * I really love this cover to sum up the general mood of this chapter. Prompto is at his lowest point, and to add insult to injury, he gets shot by his own father. All the demons are coming out, both internally and externally, and it is going to be a long road to recovery.



**Chapter 17: Dissident Dreams**

**“Rewrite the Stars” by Zac Efron and Zendaya**

_What if we rewrite the stars / say you were made to be mine / nothing could keep us apart / you’d be the one I was meant to find / it’s up to you, and it’s up to be / no one can say what we get to be / why don’t we rewrite the stars / maybe the world could be ours / tonight_

      * Prompto and Noctis are finally "together," but Prompto knows it is going to be short lived. They are simply not meant to have a relationship, and this song from "The Greatest Showman" could easily be a conversation between Prompto and Noctis. 



**“Better With You” by Jesse McCartney**

_For every laugh there is a silent cry / for every day there is a darker night / sometimes this life doesn’t treat us right / and I don’t know what to do / but I know it’s better with you / I was a wreck when you came along / when there was nothing left / you showed me the best / I’m still a mess but you hold on_

      * Despite his own doubts, Prompto acknowledges that he is better with Noctis around. The prince serves as the one light in the darkness, something he desperately needs. 



**Chapter 18: DTR**

**“Savages” by R0YLS**

_You and me come together like savages, savages / We need bandages, bandages / You and me come together / Make damages, damages / We make damages, damages / How do we save us from burning down / How do we save us from lashing out / The pain of you is lovely / The good, the bad, the ugly_

      * Beat up both physically and mentally, Prompto and Noctis have an argument and a falling out regarding the status of their relationship. 



**“Don’t Give Up on Me” by Andy Grammar**

_I’m not givin’ up, givin’ up / no, not me / even when nobody else believes / I’m not goin’ down that easily / so don’t give up on me / and I will hold you / I’ll hold onto you / no matter what this world’ll throw / it won’t shake me loose / I’ll reach my hands out in the dark / and wait for yours to interlock / I’ll wait for you”_

      * In my mind, this is the sentiment Noctis is trying to communicate with Prompto during this chapter.



**“Good Things Fall Apart” by ILLENIUM**

_Did I say something wrong / Did you hear what I was thinking / Did I talk way too long / When I told you all my feelings / That night / Is it you, is it me did you find somebody better / Someone who isn’t me / ‘Cause I know that I was never your type / Never really your type // I’m coming to terms with a broken heart / I guess that sometimes good things fall apart_

      * Unfortunately, Prompto isn't ready to accept Noctis's love and pushes him away (again), thinking that they will never be allowed to be together. 



**Chapter 19: Right Here**

**“Call It What You Want” cover by Travis Atreo**

_All the drama queens taking swings_ _/ all the jokers dressin' up as kings / they fade to nothing when I look at him / and I know I make the same mistakes every time / bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right / I did one thing right / I'm laughing with my lover, making forts under covers / trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right / starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night_

      * We get a brief look at the bullying and harrassment that Prompto has to endure at the academy, but Noctis is his white knight, there to save the day and bring him to safety. 



**“Outnumbered” by Dermot Kennedy**

_I could’ve showed you all the scars at the start / but that was always the most difficult part / see, I’m in love with how your soul’s a mix of chaos and art / and how you never try to keep ‘em apart // don’t tell me this is all for nothin’ / I can tell you one thing / on the nights you feel outnumbered / baby, I’ll be out there somewhere_

      * Our boys are FINALLY together, for good this time! My favorite line in this song is "I'm in love with how your soul's a mix of chaos and art," and it is something I think Noctis would believe about Prompto. For a reason he can't explain, he loves this anxious bundle of energy, and he vows to protect him going forward. 



**Chapter 20: Darling, Darling, Stand by Me**

**“Stand by You” cover by Alex Goot**

_Hands, put your empty hands in mine / and scars, show me all the scars you hide / and hey, if your wings are broken / please take mine so yours can open too / ‘cause I’m gonna stand by you // even if we’re breaking down, we can find a way to break through / even if we can’t find heaven, I’ll walk through hell with you / love, you’re not alone, ‘cause I’m gonna stand by you_

      * The title song for the fic! I've harped on it enough, but when I first heard it I got a lot of the ideas for this story. The original is by Rachel Platten, but this cover is to die for. 



**“Lost & Found” by MacKenzie Bourg**

_I was looking for someone / then I crushed into you / don’t you know / you give me something I can’t leave without / my heart was waiting in the lost and found for your love / it was your love that pulled me out / the lost and found_

      * I absolutely adore the lyrics in this one...it's 100% Promptis energy. 



**“Back to You” by Brothers Page**

_It’s gonna be a wild ride / Spreading all the love building up inside / our wave is rising up when it’s high tide / gonna dive in and get back to you right now / and they say forever is a long time / but each day gets clearer in my mind’s eye / we’re swimming through time and it’s a wild ride_

      * An upbeat track that embodies the hope in the final half of the chapter. "It's gonna be a wild ride," but now that Prompto and Noctis are together, there's nothing they can't handle. 



**"Stand by Me" cover by Matt Johnson**

_When the night has come / and the land is dark / and the moon is the only light we'll see / no I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid / just as long as you stand, stand by me / and darling, darling, stand by me / oh now, now stand by me / stand by me, stand by me_

  * Is it FFXV if this song isn't mentioned? It complements the "Stand by You" title and represents the shift in Prompto's confidence from the beginning of the fic to the end. At first, he is offering to stand by someone (i.e. Noctis), but now, he is asking Noctis to stand by _him_. His heart is open, and he is accepting the love that is being shown by others without doubting their intentions. 




	22. Fanart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my artist friends who spoil me with their beautiful work.
> 
> I welcome any and all fanart! Feel free to tag me on Twitter (@HardNoctLife) or tumblr (hard-noct-life)

**Author's Note:**

> I respond to all comments. Feel free to talk to me on tumblr (hard-noct-life) and twitter (@HardNoctLife). Thank you for reading!


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